Office Hours
by Sahrgal
Summary: Kirk and Uhura are both cadets and students in Commander Spock's Intermediate Xenolinguistics class. Both take full advantage of their teacher's office hours and one has an agenda. How does one sway a Vulcan? This can get a bit Uhura bash-y, so if that's not your cup of tea, I'm sorry. This is a response to a prompt I got on KS Archive -
1. Ch 1: The Fair-Haired Cadet

0545.

As the sun shined the faintest rays of light just over the eastern horizon signaling the impending sunrise, Commander Spock rose from yet another dreamless slumber. Vulcans don't dream much and vivid dreams are rare. Silently and efficiently, Spock readied himself for the first Monday lecture for the intermediate xenolinguistics class under his instruction this semester. At 0600, clad in a crisp and freshly cleaned black instructor's uniform, Spock made his way to Hoshi Sato Hall across the campus on foot.

The sky around him glowed a muted peach that faded into lavender then indigo the farther from the horizon it was as the sun had not yet peaked above the urban skyline of San Francisco. Aside from the faint beating of his feet on the pavement, Spock walked in silence, alone. It was peaceful, no hurried throng of cadets going about their business in every direction possible as was the usual for this area of campus as the cadets were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. Well, all but two.

Some ways away, Spock spotted two young men rushing in through the academy gates on the eastern side, coming from the city. The two men quickly grew nearer and nearer, the lighter-haired one appeared to be towing his darker-haired friend who stumbled often and laughed, likely intoxicated. Not that that former was much better off. They both hastily and clumsily made their way towards the cadet dorm building next to the staff on-campus living site. Much to Spock's chagrin, the two cadets narrowly missed barreling into his right side, sending a gust of air straight into him, because of all the trajectories they could have chosen, they chose the closest-running path parallel to Spock's own. Spock turned around to reprimand them for their carelessness, but as he turned, so did the fair-haired human and his eyes were greeted to a happy set of cerulean eyes, giving Spock pause. _Is it possible for a human's eyes to appear so blue? Fascinating,_ Spock thought to himself.

Distantly, he heard a hurried and noticeably slurred, "Oh, uh, sorry, sir! -Bones, quit tripping me!- Yeah, sorry!" directed at him. Spock nodded absently and the two men whipped around and continued their clumsy journey. Spock quickly came to, turned around, and continued on his way to the Hall, quashing the odd tingly feeling in his gut.

Sitting in the small office that was connected to his lecture hall, Spock allowed himself the liberty of a light meditation to fill the remaining hours until his first round of students showed up for class at 0800 as he had not yet had student work to grade.

0745 hours.

Slowly, but surely, the first students trickled into the hall, then the rest of the students later on. The majority of the seats were filled. The students appeared to favor the middle rows with comparatively fewer students occupying the first row, one of which he recognized from his Introduction to Xenolinguistics class last semester, Cadet Nyota Uhura, an exceptional student in communications track with a highly sensitive ear for language, particularly Vulcan.

0759.

Spock made his way from the office, seeing from his open door that his entire class had settled in their seats and he could prepare to introduce himself to his fresh batch of students. Spock, known to be a stickler about attendance with his zero tolerance tardy policy (meaning late is the equivalent to absent and don't bother trying to come in) and not one to live down his reputation, strode over to the entrance and held his hand up to engage the door's locking mechanism. At that moment, he heard quick footfall. Next thing he saw was a blur of red and gold rush past him and into the classroom before he engaged the locking mechanism. He turned to address the class. He was met with yet another familiar face, one he did not have a name to pair it with. The fair-haired cadet clad in red with the impossibly cerulean eyes flashed him a quick, bright smile as he easily sank into a front row seat. It appeared and vanished so quickly that Spock briefly wondered if he had imagined it. _Illogical,_ he thought to himself and raised an eyebrow as he broke the eye contact he hadn't been aware that he'd been maintaining with the fair-haired human. In the corner of his eye, Nyota rolled her eyes in exasperation and crossed her arms as she sat in her chair.

0800 hours.

"Good morning, cadets. My name is Commander Spock and I am your Intermediate Xenolinguistics instructor for the duration of this fall semester. Over the course of the coming twenty weeks, we shall cover the morphological, phonological, phonetic, semantic, and pragmatic similarities and differences between the various major languages spoken by the numerous members of the Federation. This course is designed to further your knowledge of linguistics in general and to familiarize yourselves with all major languages. For those of you specifically on the communications track, this course will be your final precursor before you specify the language family you plan to specialize in for the duration of your time here at Starfleet Academy following the conclusion of this semester. You will have a choice between the following language families: Vulcan, Romulan, Orion, Klingon, Betazoid, Ferengi, and Iconian. During this course, we shall spend 2.85 weeks on each language family furthering the study you started in Introduction to Linguistics," Spock paused a moment, "Before we commence the first lesson, are there any pressing questions?"And as the last syllable left Spock's mouth, Uhura's hand rose confidently into the air. "Cadet," he acknowledged.

"When will we get to the Vulcan unit, sir?"she asked, sticking her chin out slightly and leaning forward onto her desk, peering at him through her lashes. She addressed him in this manner often when she took his Intro class last semester. It seemed to bother some of her former classmates and she never paid them any mind. Spock replied, unimpressed,

"We will begin that unit 12.28 weeks into the semester," he paused, scanning the relatively still cluster of students in his lecture hall for a hand in the air. No one else raised their hand to speak. Spock opened his mouth to start his lecture, but the fair-haired cadet in the front row raised his hand slowly, peering around to make sure no one else had their hand raised. Spock nodded, the muscles around his mouth and neck seemed to stiffen as he made eye contact with those cerulean eyes, transfixed. _Those eyes._

"From my experience with other instructors here in the past, they all are a bit different in terms of grading policy… What's yours?"At this, Spock stayed silent a moment longer willing his mouth to comply with his brain. Success.

"Late work is not accepted with the exception of medical absence or family business. Your grade in this class is heavily dependent on spoken tests and written exams, both of which are taken twice in person. These tests comprise 90% of the grade with outside work comprising the remaining 10%. The class is not graded on a curve. I do not round up percentages. And there are no extra credit opportunities."

"Thank you, sir," the fair-haired cadet replied,grinning slightly.

 _Humans smile for the most unusual reasons. I see nothing humorous in my grading policy. Fascinating._ Spock bowed his head slightly in return then straightened and started the day's lesson on Iconian syntax.

1100.

Spock was once again sitting in his office moments after he ended class for the day, the students hurrying out of his class. Spock overheard their complaints about the workload drifting through the doorway as they passed. He was definitely not one of the super easy instructors that didn't work to challenge his students. They are students at Starfleet Academy. These young humans and others will be the future of their fleet as will the classes that follow them. A lot of homework never hurt anybody.

"A moment, Commander?" A familiar shrill voice chimed. Uhura stood, leaning against the door frame, ankles casually crossed.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah," she sauntered over to his desk, sitting on the armrest of the visitor's chair. His eyebrow flicked slightly.

 _How peculiar to not use the chair for the purpose it was intended for._

"So… How was your break between now and the end of the summer semester?"

"Rather uneventful I remained on campus,"he replied, piquing Uhura's interest.

"You didn't go back home to Vulcan to see your family... or perhaps an intended?"

"No, my presence was not required on Vulcan," which she knows was his way of saying, "No, I didn't feel like seeing my family and I was not needed by my _telsu_ because I do not have one."

 _Oooh,_ she thought, _no intended? Maybe I don't have to pretend that this commander isn't the finest Vulcan I've ever seen._ "Oh…. uh, today's class was super interesting, as always. You _always_ give a good lecture," she said emphatically, twirling the end of her long ponytail that draped itself over her left shoulder daintily, " I found your analogy for memorizing the complex sentence structure variations between the ancient Iconian dialects. I look forward to the rest of this semester."

"I thank you."Spock felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with the awkward pacing of conversation. There were lots of pauses in between everything they said. It always felt as if Uhura wasn't sure what to say even though it also appeared that she may have had something to add. This perplexed him.

 _Nyota, your time is now!_ "So, I have a lot on my plate this semester with extra classes because I'm looking to get ahead on my credits… I was wondering if I could spend some time outside of class on a schedule to go over the material and any help on the homework you can offer…? So I can stay on top of my workload."

"A logical choice, Cadet. My daily office hours are 1500 to 1700 hours on the weekdays and from 1200 to 1500 hours on Saturdays. Do not hesitate to visit during the specified hours," Spock peered at the chronometer on his desk, "Unfortunately, I must cut this meeting short. There is a department meeting that I am required to attend in 9.73 minutes," Spock said as he rose from his seat and straightened his uniform jacket.

"Oh, yeah, no problem, sir. I'll be on my way then. See you tomorrow," and with that she bowed her head slightly before walking quickly out to outdoor hallway. As the door to Spock's lecture hall slid closed, Nyota rounded the corner and leaned against the wall, a bright smile gracing her face as she clasped her hands in front of her chest in delight, repressing the urge to squeal. She stayed that way for a moment or two before carrying on to her next class.


	2. Ch 2: Clock Work

1200 hours.

The first linguistics department meeting had just reached a conclusion. The majority of early- and mid-morning classes had also ended around that time so cadets were out and about. Spock made his way back to his office to prepare for his afternoon and evening lectures.

When he reached his office, he immediately seated himself at his desk to immerse himself in his padd. The morning class's first day of instruction was productive and his inbox now housed a fair amount of classwork files that the cadets sent in to be graded for the day. Unlike some other professors at the Academy, Spock was pretty good about grading anything and everything he assigned within a day or two after submission deadlines. Sometimes, the ever efficient Vulcan was able to power through them in a matter of hours.

At five assignments in, the door chimed softly, returning Spock to the real world beyond his linguistics assignments. "Enter," he commanded. Much to his surprise, the door slid open to reveal none other than the fair-haired cadet, bright eyes immediately trained on his seated form. "Good afternoon, Cadet…" he trailed off as he realized that he had yet to learn this young man's name.

"Cadet Kirk," the cadet responded without missing a beat. Spock nodded slightly in affirmation.

"Are you in need of assistance, Cadet Kirk?"

"Yes, sir," Kirk replied, "Although it's not exactly in what you would expect." Spock raised his eyebrow in question at the last half of that remark.

"To what are you referring then?"

"I'm in the command track. This semester, I'm enrolled in negotiations tactics with Captain Pike. I was hoping to find someone to learn and practice my tactics with…"

"Why do you not approach Captain Pike? Logically, a professor who holds a captain's ranking possesses better knowledge of negotiations and diplomacy than your linguistics instructor. As starship personnel are often involved in first contact situations, the captain is expected to be able to handle such diplomatic affairs," Spock stated matter of factly, earning a slightly pained expression from the man before him.

"May I sit?"The Vulcan waved his hand in the direction of the chair in front of his desk in response and Kirk took the seat graciously and continued, "Yes, Captain Pike really is a fine instructor, but I feel like to get the most out of this class, it'd be smart to learn from different people with different styles."

"Forgive me, but it is still unclear as to why you have selected a linguistics instructor instead of another instructor from Captain Pike's department."

"Oh, it's simple, really, sir. There are no Vulcans in his department," this earned Kirk a right eyebrow raised toward the Vulcan's hairline, "I wanted to see how an individual from an entirely different world, a different culture, would handle diplomacy as compared to humans... To see how different we really are. How would someone of a race of people that follow Surak's laws of logic handle intense negotiations and stuff like that," Kirk elaborated hopefully, "You think you'd be up to help me out, Commander?"Spock pondered this briefly before he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

"I would be amenable in assisting you with this endeavor, however, I do instruct a number of classes throughout the day. I am unsure as to whether or not both of our schedules will allow us time to meet outside of the times you and I are both occupied. What is your current class schedule?"

"On Mondays and Wednesdays, I'm in your linguistics class from 0800 to 1100 hours. From 1300 hours to 1500 hours, I'm in Engineering 200, as well as a 1 hour lab for that class at 1700 hours on Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I take Programming 400 from 0900 to 1200 hours," both of Spock's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, "and Negotiations Tactics 200 from 1400 to 1700 hours. And of course, the mandatory combat and field training for all cadets on Fridays from 0600 to 1500 hours," he rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, "Anywhere you are able to squeeze in?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you see a time slot that we both have free?"

"Ah, yes. Coincidentally, we have the same implied meal break from 1100 to 1300 hours on Mondays and Wednesdays as well as my office hours from 1500 to 1700. There are a number of other shorter time slots that we are likely available, but I doubt that you elect to spend the vast majority of your free time learning Vulcan tactics," said Spock. Kirk laughed at this, eyes twinkling. There was something about his laugh that made Spock feel… lighter.

"Sounds great, Commander."

"I recall you mentioning that you are currently taking Programming 400 this semester, if I am not mistaken?" Spock inquired.

"Yes, sir, I am."

"That is quite an advanced class. What year are you?"

"I'm still a freshman since this is my second semester here so far," Kirk said with a small smile. Spock was thoroughly impressed by the human sitting across from him, if both eyebrows being raised high was any indication. Spock asked him some more about his skill in programming, where and how he learned so young (Kirk gave a very abbreviated explanation. He didn't want the Vulcan to know how much of a little shit he was as a kid with a bad reputation with the authorities in Iowa), even what marks he earned last semester and throughout high school. Conversation flowed easily between them, but he also felt like he was forgetting something…

Kirk glanced around briefly, then his eyes caught sight of Spock's chronometer and his eyes widened a bit. 1245. He was supposed to be up and out of that chair by 1230.

Kirk clapped his hands against the tops of his red-clad thighs in a motion to stand from his seat, "Thank you for being so willing to help me out. I hope you don't mind my hasty retreat. I promised my friend I'd catch lunch with him before I go to Engineering and he's just coming from Med."

Spock bowed his head slightly averting the azure gaze, slightly disconcerted, "A pleasant day to you," and with that, Kirk was out the door, leaving Spock to his thoughts.

XXXX

"Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to show up!" McCoy grumbled as Kirk plopped onto the ground next to his grouchy best friend. They had long since claimed the spot under the tree in the big patch of grass in the middle of the main quad. "I've never been stood up on a date before and I'm not starting now, pretty boy."

"So-rry," he drawled, "Got held up in Sato Hall." McCoy scowled.

"Doing what? I thought that xenolinguistics class you had ended at 1100."

"Yeah, but then I had to run to the student store and get an engineering notebook for my next class and then I went and bothered Commander Spock for some of his time," McCoy's eyes widened, then narrowed quickly.

"You mean to tell me that Commander Pointy, one of the sternest instructors the Academy has to offer, has agreed to subject himself to the wild ride that you are, student or not... willingly?"

"Pffft, I'm not _that_ bad, Bones! Honest!" a wide grin splitting his face as he moved to take a bite out of his turkey sandwich. Okay, maybe he was that bad. What? It's always fun to rile up a teacher. At least he got high marks to make up for that fact. McCoy raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Says the little shit that damn near drove his programming instructor from last semester to an early retirement! Poor guy…"

Kirk, falsely affronted, replied, "What? Not my fault he couldn't handle my magic. I'm starting to think that my dear love, Mr. Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, can't handle my magic either," earning him a huff of amusement from his companion.

"Say, what are you guys even working on? I don't really see you having that hard of a time, even with that hard ass as your linguistics instructor."

"Well, he's a Vulcan. Vulcans swear by logic. How different would diplomacy be if everything was solved with cold, hard Vulcan logic? Pike's a human, and he's great captain and all, but I just wanna see for myself if one is really better than the other," he shrugged, "What better way to find out than to talk to a Vulcan?"

"I guess you got a good point,"Bones conceded as he dug into his potato salad. He then proceeded to tell him about all the cool, and admittedly gross things that cadets on the Medical track learn before Kirk left his friend to go to Engineering for the rest of the afternoon.

XXXX

The first week of instruction for the semester played out without incident. It was 2000 and Spock had just finished teaching his last class of the day, Advanced Xenolinguistics with an emphasis on Vulcan. Normally, 12+ hour work days didn't faze him. In fact, it wasn't uncommon for him to not leave his office for the night til past 2200. But the past few days have been oddly taxing. Overall, he felt… distracted. By what exactly? He didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted to get back to normal. He wanted to return to his quarters, perhaps meditate. His students can wait til the extra class to receive their grades on their assignments. As he was shutting down his computer so he could leave for the night, his office door chimed. Halfway standing, he called, "Enter," before settling in his chair once again, repressing a sigh. He was greeted with a familiar black-haired cadet. "Good evening, Cadet."

"Good evening. You aren't busy at all are you?"Spock hesitated before providing her with an answer. Part of him wanted to say "Yes" so he could be on his way, but the chance of her needing help, even at this normally late hour, changed his mind. Duty first, as always.

"No, I am not. Are you in need of assistance?"

"Yeah, I meant to come by much earlier, but got held up in another lab," she replied, rolling her eyes at herself.

"It is of no consequence."

"Anyways, I have something that I'd like to work on with you. I think it will be beneficial in this class for me later in the semester," she started as she turned on her padd and sifted quickly through her files, bringing up a page loaded with text. She then handed it to Spock. A delicate eyebrow reached for his hairline. It's almost comical how often humans garner this reaction from him.

"This is in Vulcan. From what I read here in the first page, this appears to be the teachings of Surak. Fascinating. What caused you to develop interest in Vulcan philosophy?"He was genuinely curious.

 _You,_ she thought emphatically, "Oh, I was just curious and I think I could really learn something from it. A little logic never hurt anybody."

"Yes, in fact, it has been extremely beneficial. Though," he furrowed his brow slightly, "There are Standard adaptations of Surak's writings that are easily acquired. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes, but I feel it would be more appropriate for me to study Vulcan philosophy in the tongue of its people. I want to avoid the instance of deeper meaning being lost in translation." _And having you help me understand this allows me to spend more time with you_ , she reasoned.

"Let us get started then." He read the first line, " _Ozhika se ek'zehl svi'mesprahn heh utvau"_

"Logic is the boundary between meaning and reason," she translated. He nodded in affirmation,

"Correct. Now," he switched seamlessly back to Vuclan to continue the first teaching, " _Ozhika se ko-mekh t'ek-fereikan. El-s'zherka, wuh'gla-tor ipik-ozhika. Hasu abukhau k'zherka, dungi kup gla-tor veh goh grei ish-ma au. Wi ozhika heh utvau sarlah au ka shu-ap. Nash-shu-ap se wimish olozhika. Ozhika pukeshta s'olozhika se palikaya t'ek-kau."_ Uhura took a moment to dissect and translate what he had just said before repeating,

"Logic is the mother of all creation. Freed from emotion, one can see the hidden logic. Being ruled by emotion, one can only see one's own limitations," she paused as she replayed what he said again then continued, "Yet logic and reason emerge from the same source. This source is called the logos. Logic born from the logos is the beginning of all wisdom."

They continued this exchange until they reached the twentieth teaching of the first part before Uhura got a little idea, "I don't know about you, but I'm famished," she said dramatically. She really was, but still, the inflection was a bit much.

"I too find myself in need of sustenance. I have not eaten since morning meal."

"Why don't we call it a night for Surak and you accompany me to a late dinner."

"It is hardly appropriate for an instructor to share dinner with a student."

"Oh, it's honestly no problem. I want to thank you for your time and effort tonight. We're both hungry, might as well walk with me to the mess hall." Spock pondered her request a moment before deciding,

"Very well, I will accompany you." And with that, they both stood and walked to the mess hall. Uhura allowed herself a small smile of victory and mentally patted herself on the back. They chatted softly about their own first weeks into the semester until they arrived at the relatively unoccupied mess hall, as expected at the time. It was 2130 hours on a Friday night. Most cadets were out in the city enjoying the first night of the weekend or elsewhere on campus doing their own things to wind down. They walked to the stasis units that held a pretty substantial amount of food for cadets and staff that elected to eat after the kitchen staff left for the night. Spock fixed himself a large salad and Uhura heated herself some pasta before they moved to a nearby table and ate in silence. Not much later, a familiar duo entered. Spock noticed the young cadets immediately. One was Kirk, who he hadn't seen since Wednesday's class, and the other was the brown-haired cadet that he had seen Kirk drunkedly stumbling with on Monday morning. Kirk noticed him as well.

"Commander Spock!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "What a pleasant surprise running into you here." Uhura rolled her eyes.

 _Great! Way to encroach on a girl's dinner with her favorite person, Jim…_ She griped internally, thoroughly annoyed. Kirk and McCoy quickly grabbed some sandwiches (aka the go-to food for young human males since the beginning of time, it seems) and waters before joining the odd pair at their table.

"Mind if we join?" Kirk asked with a smile, having already taken a seat next to the commander at the round table they were all seated at.

"Seeing as you have already seated yourself, it would be pointless for me to provide a response to your query," Spock said, only half serious. He didn't mind Kirk's company. He had proven to be quite good at picking up and absorbing the class material as well as closely approximating a convincing Klingon accent. They were in their Klingon unit for the first couple weeks of the semester since past students seemed to favor studying that language above the others covered later on. As for his companion, Spock didn't have enough experience with the young man to form an opinion on him.

"Commander, this is my very good friend, Cadet Leonard McCoy, on the Med track. Bones took this as the cue to talk to Commander Pointy,

"A pleasure to meet you, Commander," earning a briefly bowed head in response. He then turned his attention to Uhura, "and it's always nice to see you, Nyota," he said sweetly. She smiled softly,

"I could say the same about you, Leonard," she paused, taking a deep breath before addressing the other, "Jim," she said with a somewhat terse nod in his direction. She honestly didn't know what to think about this situation. Not only did one of the people she couldn't stand, James Kirk , crash the "date" that Spock… didn't actually know he was part of, but Spock was actually allowing this intrusion. She was decidedly livid. She wasn't about to embarrass herself and demand that they leave. She would leave instead so she can rant to her roommate, Gaila (assuming the Orion beauty didn't have another guy over or was out on the town without her). "Man, I guess I'm more tired than I initially thought… I think I'm gonna turn in for the night, Commander, thank you so much for your help and company tonight."

"Thanks are illogical; I only seek to aid you in your pursuit of a successful career as a communications officer," seeing her thinly-veiled pained expression from that, he amended his words somewhat grudgingly, "But in respect of the human custom to express gratitude, you are most welcome, Cadet." She smiled at that as she collected her empty bowl and eating utensils.

"Goodnight, Commander. McCoy… Kirk," she said as she placed her items in the trash receptacle and exited the mess hall. After the door slid shut behind her, she let out a long sigh and stalked to the dorms.

XXXX

McCoy's eyes lingered at the shut door for a moment before saying, "God, I wonder what her problem was. She seemed all hunky-dory until we sat here. She practically marched out of the door!"Spock furrowed his eyebrows inquisitively,

"Hunky-dory?" he asked, the decidedly human expression completely going over his immaculately groomed head. The man had nice hair. Kirk was quick to translate,

"Meaning quite happy," then he continued his friend's thought, "She probably left cuz of me. She likes you enough, Bones."

"Yeah, probably," McCoy smirked, "and of course she 'likes me enough!' What woman doesn't appreciate a southern gentleman like me?" He wagged his eyebrows. He and Kirk both shared a short laugh. Spock watched the exchange, puzzled by the notion that Uhura found Kirk disagreeable. Kirk had an ease with words and making friends if seeing him quickly become the highly-sought-after dialogue partner in his class was any indication. Spock found him interesting, very agreeable. He found her poorly-veiled contempt of Kirk very disagreeable and illogical. McCoy's communicator chirped unexpectedly and he pulled it out to read it. "Oh, Christine and her pack are all going out tonight. We're invited. Wanna come, Jim?"

"I think I'll duck out of that tonight. The first training today kicked my ass. Sunday night -or should I say Monday morning- was enough for me. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Okay, suit yourself. I'm going! And the training thing is your fault. It's not the Olympics."

"Of course you are, Christine's gonna be there," he winked, "Have fun. Oh, and some of us like a good, hard workout, Bones. You work out to be healthy and avoid being yelled at by the platoon commander. I do it because it's fun!" McCoy scoffed, clapped Jim's shoulder, got up, and threw away his sandwich wrapper.

"I will. You stay out of trouble," he said pointedly at Jim, "Have a good night, Commander." And he left the hall at that to run by his and Jim's quarters to change before he met up with his lady friend and their group of friends and hit up one of their many late-night haunts. Spock and Kirk finished their food.

"I too find myself in need of a rest period. I will be returning to my quarters."

"Yeah, same," Jim replied, "We're heading in the same direction. Care to walk with me, Commander?"

"I would be amenable to that," said Spock. Jim's eyes gleamed with something he could not define. All he knew was the he wished to see that gleam more often. They cleaned up their table and stepped out into the cool San Francisco night air and made their way to the path that lead from the greater quad that was encompassed by various halls to one of the pathways that lead to the residential area of the campus, Jim animatedly talking about his experience in his engineering lab and how interesting warp theory really was to him. Jim was such an agreeable and intelligent man in general. Spock listened and responded appropriately as he was interested in everything the young cadet had to say, but he was really focused on the happiness and passion he could feel rolling off Jim in waves. Passion was a very becoming look on him if the way he moved fluidly and grandly in accordance to his own words were indication. And his easy smile. Normally, he didn't pay much mind to smiles, but his always drew his attention. Spock found this young man extremely fascinating for he seemed to stir his very _katra_. They slowed their pace as they neared the fork in the path that separated the paths leading to either of the various student or staff dormitory buildings.

"Well, it looks like we've reached the end of our short journey from the Mess to dorms," Jim noted, interrupting his own sentence about some interesting readings he got in lab that day, "That's too bad."

"It seems we have, Cadet," Spock had hardly noticed their arrival to the fork until Jim mentioned it. "I bid you goodnight."

"You too, Commander. Have a good weekend," and he smiled his easy smile before turning and walking the path that lead to his building. Spock absently watched him retreat until Jim rounded a corner around the first building before he also turned and made his way to his own, now deep in thought.


	3. Ch 3: Off to the Chases

Nyota sighed as she entered her shared quarters with Gaila. Much to her relief, her ivy-complected best friend was home on a Friday night for a change. She was lounging on her bunk with in her typical home attire, or lack thereof, since it was usually just a frilly bra and underwear. Honestly, it's pretty great how comfortable Orion women are with their bodies and their sexuality, even if most other species find the extent alarming at first. It definitely took some getting used to on Nyota's when they first became roommates. Gaila noticed her presence after she came from behind the small partition that separated entry space from the limited living space that cadets were allowed.

"Hey, what's up?"she said warmly, smiling her characteristic broad smile.

"I'd say you don't wanna know, but we both know you do. How about you tell me how you are before I start my rant? I'm honestly surprised you're home!"

"Yeah, me too," she flipped her long auburn curls out of her face and over her other shoulder, "I was actually supposed to go on a date with this guy, but I figured that I'm just not excited enough by him to get dolled up after the bullshit that was field training today."

"I feel it! I didn't spend a single minute at the gym between semesters. Big mistake," Nyota said as she disrobed until she was in a similar state of undress and flopped on her own bunk gracelessly.

"Soooo," Gaila started, "What's got you all blah tonight?"

"Ok, so you remember how I'm lucky enough to be in another one of Commander Spock's classes this semester?"

"Hell yeah, I do. A second semester with 'Commander Hot Stuff.' You basically died of joy when you got your schedule!"

"Well, I've come up with a way to spend some more time outside of class with him," at this, Gaila leaned in further. She was definitely interested.

"Girl, I didn't think you had the balls. Making moves toward not only a commander, but a _Vulcan_ commander," she smirked, "Couldn't have done it without me, babe. I think I'm having a good influence on you!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

"I mean, you won't be catching me with nighttime companions on the regular. You do well enough on your own,"

"But I _have_ turned my gorgeous roommate into a fearless queen," she said proudly, "You're _welcome_. Anyways, out with it. What happened?"Nyota sighed.

"So after he was done teaching for the night I went in and asked if he could help me translate the teachings of Surak. We made a pretty good dent in it and then I convinced him to have dinner with me-"

"Shut up!" Gaila interrupted, gaping in mild shock, "You got him to go out with you?"Nyota nodded with a cheeky grin,

"Yup! I'm going to count it as a date even if he doesn't know we were on one… yet," she replied with a mischievous smirk. Gaila was so proud of her roommate turned best friend. She's finally going out and getting what she wants.

 _Took long enough_ , Gaila thought to herself. "Okay, so you got Commander Hot Stuff to go on a date with you, huzzah, but you're still not telling me what put you in the sour mood you came home in…"

"Oh yeah… Well guess who showed up in the middle of our dinner?"

"Who?" Gaila asked, giving her friend 110% of her attention.

"Jim fucking Kirk," she replied flatly, returning to the fuming she had come home doing, Gaila felt bad for her. Of all the people that could have crashed the "date," it had to be one of the most likeable freshman, able to charm the pants off of any girl, guy, or other he wanted, if he wanted to. Hell, she had a short fling with him last semester… Not that she would _ever_ tell Nyota. That would be bad news. Nyota continued her rant, "and Spock didn't even think to shoo him away! Kirk just waltzed on over and took a seat with us as if he belonged there! It's kinda like I just fell off the face of the Earth, ya know? Spock was all focused on the newcomer… as if he hadn't just spent over an hour and a half alone with me. It's honestly bullshit." Nyota buried her face into her pillow in frustration. Gaila grimaced at the scene her friend laid out for her. She knew what was up. She didn't think Spock had any non-platonic interest in Nyota… Maybe that could change? If he had really just shifted his attention that easily and let Jim intrude on a more or less private outing with her gorgeous best friend… maybe, just maybe, he might be interested in him and not Nyota. She can't blame Spock, but it still made her angry because she can easily see Nyota getting herself hurt.

"I'm sorry, girl…" she moved to Nyota's bunk to perch herself on the edge and rubbed circles into her back in an effort to comfort her friend, "What are you gonna do now?"

"I don't knowww," Nyota groaned into the pillow. She was silent a while, thinking of what to do. Suddenly, she rolled onto her back and sat up quickly to face Gaila, eyes alight with determination, "I'll try harder! I am going after a Vulcan after all. I'm not gonna let one little fluke stop me from getting what I want."

"You sure you want to do that?" Gaila asked uncertainly. She didn't have a good feeling at all. Nyota got up and walked to their floor-length mirror, examining herself closely.

"Yes," she replied, "I don't know what Kirk is up to… or if he's even up to anything regarding Spock,"

 _No, it's the other way around. Maybe Spock is up to something regarding Kirk?_ , Gaila thought, eyes narrowing.

"But if he is, two can play at this game. Vulcans find intelligence attractive… I'm pretty smart. I work hard both in school," she paused, turning in front of the mirror, appraising herself from different angles, "and in the gym." The dorm's lighting bounced softly off her mocha skin. Nyota knew she was attractive. Having an Orion as a roommate and a best friend taught her to be less… human in the respect that it wasn't exactly necessary to be humble about the fact that she's probably more attractive than a lot of the female student body being tall and slender. Much like the models she saw in old Earth magazines from the 21st century. She received quite a bit of attention from the guys around here, not that she gave most of them a second glance. She had eyes only for the tall, light, and handsome Vulcan commander. _We're probably the best looking set of roommates in the academy_ , she mused internally, looking at the buxom red-headed Orion in the corner of the reflection. Then again, she had never come across an Orion woman with anything other than a perfect body. Maybe that's why they are all so okay with wearing next to nothing when given the opportunity?

"Well, you do speak the truth there," Gaila replied, "If you still want to be part of the chase, then I say go ahead. Maybe he'll even find the fact that he's being competed over hot and it work in your favor!" She winked at her friend in the mirror. Nyota moved back toward her bunk, a new fire alight in her at her friend's words.

 _God, I love her! she thought proudly_."It's barely past 2200 and it's Friday," she started, in a great mood, "let's out for a drink and some dancing!" Gaila beamed at this,

"I thought you'd never ask!" and hopped out of bed. The two beauties immediately started getting themselves dolled up to celebrate boldness and the new chase.


	4. Ch 4: Date Night

1100.

Nyota groaned as she rolled over in her bunk, dehydrated and head pounding. Gaila was still out cold. She slowly sat up and wandered over to her dresser and caught sight of her ashen face, last night's makeup still on but looking nowhere near as flawless as it had the night before. Traces of her once bold and sharp cat eye deposited itself in the creases of her eyelids and under her eyes. _Raccoon eyes. Always a good look, Nyota_ , she jested at herself. From her dresser, she picked up her toiletries and her robe from the chair in front of it, wrapping herself in it, then grabbed a towel from a lower shelf before going out into and down the long hallway to the shared bathroom facilities for her floor. Once there, she showered quickly and brushed her teeth then returned to her dorm. Gaila was still asleep.

Nyota planted herself in front of the closet. Since it was a Saturday, there was no need to don her uncomfortable red cadet uniform. She was glad. Boy did she have plans today. She smiled to herself. She picked out a cream thick-strapped tank top and layered a high-waisted burgundy skater skirt paired with a thin black cardigan and black wedges. She then blow-dried and straightened her hair, leaving it down, and redrew her signature cat eye. By 1230 hours, she was ready to go.

XXXX

Spock had spent much of his morning in meditation aside from the time he spent in the earlier morning on the comm with his mother and father, and he was now sitting in his office grading all of the work that he put off the night before. Despite his efforts, Spock still found himself extraordinarily distracted. Last night, for the first time in years, he had had a dream. It wasn't much of one. There was no interaction. In fact, his dream seemed only to be a quick succession of images in his mind flashing before him. The images shifted constantly between a number of thing, but he did remember one thing in particular: there had been a recurring image. Bright, impossibly blue eyes boring into him, seeming to get their fill of his very katra. From the many images he managed to sort through during his meditation earlier that morning, he also noticed the frequent appearance of the harsh, but endlessly beautiful Vulcan desert-scape early in the evening and late at night, the starry skies, the lonely presence of T'Khut, waking something primal in him. The Vulcan was puzzled as to how these recurring images were related in the slightest. Even more so to his reaction to them. His meditation left him no more knowledgeable about what he had just experienced than when he woke confused.

And now he was spacing out instead of doing his work. An efficient use of his time. Really.

Alone in his office, Spock heaved a sigh of irritation at himself and continued his work. Oddly enough, this was when his door decided to chime. While he was technically open for office hours at this time, he rarely received visitors on Saturday afternoons. Yet that door did chime. "Enter," he called. Much to his surprise, Cadet Uhura stood in the doorway, out of uniform, padd in hand. "Good afternoon, Cadet."

"Afternoon, Commander," she said with a calm smile, "any time for another study session?"

"I do have the time," he said, pushing his own padd aside. Uhura took her seat across from him without further ado and pulled up her file. They had reviewed the teachings that they had translated last night before they spent another hour so hacking at another large chunk of teachings. Spock's padd flashed beside him with a message and he scanned over it quickly. Spock had put in a request with the Museum of Klingon History and Culture several months ago and now the transport of a variety of both historical and theatrical writings from Kronos was finally complete and his order was now waiting in the main library at the academy. "I must take leave for the next several minutes to collect next week's lesson materials from the library. You are welcome to stay and wait for my return or you may take leave as well as we have already translated a great deal so far."

"I'll think I'll stay, sir, if it doesn't make any difference to you."

"Very well. I will return shortly." Spock got up and left the office rather quickly, leaving Uhura to her thoughts. She shifted around in her seat restlessly for a minute or two before she thought of something to do about the rest of her day. She picked up her padd from her desk, exited the file, and opened her thread with Gaila in the messaging application.

N_UHURA: _Gailaaaa_

She was excited and she needed her friend's help. After about a minute, her padd chirped.

G_MRO: _What?_

She sat for a second, debating whether or not her little plan was worth telling Gaila about. Deciding that it was, she started typing once more.

N_UHURA: _I have this cute little thing I wanna do regarding Commander Hot Stuff ;)_.

She sent the message with a tiny smirk on her face.

G_MRO: _Oooh, really? 0.0 What is it?!_

N_UHURA: _I'm gonna need a little bit of help from you to get it started, but here's what I just thought of: you have a date tonight… something that would interest Spock… idk something nice. But alas, your date falls through and now you have two tickets and you're too bummed to go and take someone else. Give them to me and I can take Spock._

She sent the message then realized she forgot something kinda important to Gaila,

N_UHURA: _I need you to buy those tickets… I can't do that right now cuz I'm in his office and he'll be back any minute. I'll pay you back in the morning. :)_

Five whole minutes passed by and no response from Gaila. Uhura was more than nervous and irritated at her friend.

N_UHURA: _Helloooooo?! :/_

She received an instant reply,

G_MRO: _Can a chick take a minute to go to the bathroom? Damn._ A second later, another message popped up, _I guess I can help you out… I'd have to search around a little bit for something._

N_UHURA: _Ok, thanks! love you!_ A few minutes later Gaila replied with her offer,

G_MRO: _I know ;) 3 Get ready to get dolled up, Ny! You two are going to see Giselle, the ballet! These last minute tickets are costing me a pretty credit. Be warned, but I figured go big or go home since you're going after a hard ass._

N_UHURA: _Omfg thank youuuuu 3 ! Message me again in like a half hr. Play the part ;) You know what to do._

And literally, JUST as she hit send and closed the application, Spock walked back in carrying a box that was easily half his height as if it weighed nothing. Of course Uhura noticed. She held back a shiver of anticipation. A fancy date with Commander Hot Stuff was in the cards. It was hard to hide the fact that she was over the moon in happiness. Spock set the box on a table in the corner by his window, the box making a soft thud, before he reclaimed his seat. "Hello again, Commander," she smiled her most charming smile.

"I apologize, acquiring the package took longer than I estimated. Uhura waved her hand at him dismissively,

"It's really no problem, sir," she said. _It really isn't, tee hee, you'll see_ , she thought wickedly. She reopened the file with Surak's teachings, "back to where we left off?"Spock nodded once in response,

"Affirmative," came his reply. They worked for another 20 minutes or so before Uhura's padd pinged. Spock glanced at the text banner at the top of the screen and saw a message.

G_MRO: _Nyotaaaa :'( Emergency!,_

Which garnered an eyebrow flick and a slight guilt on Spock's part for reading what appeared to be a personal message. He quickly quashed the guilt realizing that it was illogical given that it had appeared at the top of the screen and he had know way of knowing it would appear. "Cadet, I believe that you have an urgent message," he said, pushing the padd in her direction across his desk. Uhura took it trying her best to feign confusion. What she really wanted to do was squeal like the teenaged girl she was not that many years ago.

"Oh?" and she _almost_ let a wicked grin escape her control. _This is too good_ , she thought to herself. She moved to type a reply and Spock took this as his cue to pick up his own padd and resume the grading that he was doing before she had ever arrived. Gaila sent another message not long after,

G_MRO: _I had a date to the ballet tonight and it fell through_ :'( _What EVER will I do?_ before another message popped up, _Do you want the tickets? ;)_

N_UHURA: _Hell yeah, I do! XD_

It became harder and harder to hide her inner glee. Somehow, thankfully, she managed.

G_MRO: _Yay, show starts at 1900. This is a ballet, dress to impress. Have fun! ;) I expect to hear allll about it!_

Uhura bit the inside of her cheek to keep the grin that threatened to split her face at bay. She sent an animated heart as a response then closed the messaging application.

 _Alright, Nyota_ , giving herself a mental pep talk, _Gaila's done all of her part. Now it's your turn. You got this!_ She cleared her throat, addressing Spock, "Well then, _that_ was interesting!" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"To what are you referring?"

"My friend. She had plans for tonight that fell through. She can still go, but she's not in the mood anymore. I guess I now have two tickets to Giselle."

"Giselle? I do not know what that is," Spock replied.

"It's a Terran ballet. It was first performed in the 1800s, I believe." Spock's eyebrow lifted minisculely.

"Most interesting. You are fortunate to have the opportunity to witness this aspect of Terran culture, a work of ballet theatre that is over 400 years old ," Spock's thoughts drifted to his mother. She had told him that she had practiced ballet for a number of years when she was younger, before she ever met Sarek. She had broken her ankle somehow and never picked it back up as she had been in college before she became a teacher and decided to leave ballet behind.

He had never seen her dance back on Vulcan, but she did have an old, broken in pair of pointe shoes hanging by their ribbons in her shared bedroom with Sarek back home. They had been the last pair she ever danced in.

"Hey," Uhura started, "I have a second ticket… I don't know anyone that I can think of that would be interested in watching a ballet. Would you like to come with me tonight?" She didn't receive an immediate reply from Spock. He wasn't sure. She pressed a little more, "Consider it a lesson on Terran culture… in exchange for what we have been doing here."

"Very well, I will accompany you," Spock didn't want to pass up the chance to see what had been such an important part of his mother's life, even if she wasn't the one dancing for him. Spock reminded himself to ask his mother about this the next time he went back to Vulcan. "What time shall I meet you?"Nyota couldn't believe this was happening. She was going to a ballet with Commander Hot Stuff!

"The show starts at 1900. It's best if we arrive 45 minutes before to get seated and all. Also, you will want to dress up. Suit and tie, if you have them, though I think Vulcan robes will be fine if you don't."Spock nodded slightly. "We can meet at the Fork (s the common name of the section of pavement between student and staff on-campus housing) at 1800. Does that sound ok to you?"

"Indeed. I shall provide transportation to and from the event," Spock confirmed. Uhura clasped her hands in front of her in delight.

"Sounds like a plan, Commander. I appreciate your willingness to accompany me."

"It is only logical, Cadet," Spock reasoned, but remembering to respect human custom, he continued, "I thank you for the invitation and opportunity to learn more about humans and culture."

At that, Uhura smiled as she stood from her seat. "Well, it's just after 1400. I guess I should go now to find something to wear so we don't run late! I'll see you at 1800 sharp, Commander."

"Until then, Cadet," Spock replied in closing. Uhura left his office, padd in hand.

N_Uhura: _Gailaaaaaa! WE'RE GONNA GO..._

G_MRO: _SHOPPING! ^-^_

She practically bolted back to the dorms to catch Gaila the Fork, of course the ivy-skinned beauty had the foresight to have both of their purses in hand as she caught up with her friend and took her flitter to the other side of San Francisco, Market Street and Union Square, the most commercial district for centuries. They had some serious shopping to do and what felt like no time. Hair went up and credit chips were out. It was go time.

XXXX

Jim lay star-fished on his stomach on his bunk. Well,, as star-fished as a guy his height could manage on an already narrow Starfleet bunk, which meant hands, legs, arms, and feet dangling carelessly off each quadrant. Facing his head to the left, he peered out of the nearly floor-length window. Perks of having a roommate with a fear of heights (their shared quarters was several stories up): he got the bunk closest to the window, and he didn't mind in the slightest. When he noted for the umpteenth time that nothing in the campus scenery had changed, he started picking out and counting spots on the window itself.

Yes, Jim Kirk was bored.

Ever since Bones started dating Christine, which was pretty recently, he had been seeing a lot less of him. Normally, it was Jim spending the late hours of the weekends (and sometimes week nights) with a beautiful woman, man, or other, and Bones was home playing video games or reading med journals if he and Jim weren't hanging out together. The tables had been turned and Jim hadn't the slightest idea what to do with himself.

"Uuuuggggh. Nothing to do around this place," he declared to the empty room, mostly his pillow. It was 1400 and he had done nothing but laze around since he woke up. He rolled over onto his back and sighed. Groaning a bit, body stiff from lack of movement, he sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed facing the window. It was a nice day. Maybe he'd go for a run and maybe the gym?

He padded down the hall to the common bathroom to wash any traces of sleep still on his face even this late in the day before returning to his quarters to throw on a black tank top, blue running shorts, and some running shoes. He then packed a small gym bag with a towel, toiletries, grips, and a change of clothes before heading down and out of the building.

Before he embarked on his run, he stopped by the gym to drop off the bag in a locker. Stepping back out into the early September sunshine, he quickly, but carefully stretched his legs and arms. Jim breathed in slowly, deeply through his nose, revelling in the smell of sun-warmed earth, grass, and trees on the outskirts of the campus. It reminded him of home back in Iowa. The distinct smell of dirt that didn't smell bad, just like dirt, the grass's comparatively sharper scent wafting up more subtly as if it had been thin vines climbing and wrapping itself delicately around the earthy aroma.

While most of the people from back home in Iowa brought little Jimmy pain, the nature that surrounded him and those same people brought him some semblance of solace in the clusterfuc that was his childhood and adolescence. When his mom was on-planet (which was rare), Frank was tolerable, but when she'd leave, he's go right back to being his drunk and abusive self. When it became too much to be in the house with Frank, Jimmy and his older brother Sam would run around outside in the vast stretches of land that surrounded his country home. They'd run until the grass around them got a little less tame and their house was but a small detail in the distant background. Even in the 24th century, much of the large, flat regions of the United States known as the Great Plains had remained relatively undeveloped, save for the parts that turned into the areas bordering the Great Lakes. He and sam would then lay down in the grass, talk about everything and nothing, surrounded by that earthy concoction of aromas.

Eventually, life at home only got worse and worse. The boys got older and Frank only went downhill. Mom was away for longer periods, having accepted deep space missions. Then, when he was 12, Sam ran away. He never heard from him again, not even 7 years later. Despite that, he'd still frequently visit his and Sam's spot. Sometimes, he'd imagine what Sam looked like as he got older with Jim and pretend that he was laying there next to him, but choosing not to talk in favor of looking up to the blue sky (and sometimes white-speckled night sky as they star gazed from their spot just as often), silently hoping that there was a chance that their mom was looking back in their direction from on her ship at a distance that young Jimmy could only imagine.

Jim exhaled slowly as his feet slowed their pace and brought him back to the gym's entrance. He walked in and glanced at the chronometer. 1520 hours. He'd ran over an hour. He hardly noticed, he wasn't even all that tired. Perhaps the one thing that could thank his mom's absence for was the fact that Frank hated being the main parent so much that he forced the boys to take up virtually any activity that would keep them out of his hair so he could spend his days drunk at the bar or drunk on the couch. Didn't matter _where_ he was as long as he was drunk. Mom paid for it all. Sam was big into swimming, so he spent a lot of his time with his swim team. Jim took up gymnastics, partly because he thought it looked really cool, but mostly because it rhymed with his name. Jimmy liked to refer to himself in his head as "the Jim-nist."

The Academy gym was nothing if not like the rest of the campus, state of the art and well-maintained. There was something for everyone. Off in a separate wing of the building was an indoor Olympic pool as well as another smaller pool — length-wise at least— for diving, and a generously-sized hot tub in the set in between the two. The locker and shower rooms separated this wing from the main. The main wing housed just about everything else and had a pretty open floor plan. One quadrant of the large, high-ceilinged room was designated for the various exercise machines, another for weight training and boxing. Just under half the room was designated for gymnastic activities, much to Jim's delight. In the middle was a full 40x40 foot spring floor. Part of the 82 foot vaulting runway ran parallel to the side of the floor closest to the wall. Off the furthest end of the floor were the bars various high and uneven bars and then more of those same bars with pits as well as parallel bars. On the end closest to the entrance were high beams, pommel horses and still rings. This was the Jim-nist's playground. Jim jogged to the locker room to get his grips, chalked his hands upon his return, and then kipped on the still rings into basic support before slowly lifting his straight legs in front of him to the 90 degree L-sit.

"Yep, it's _definitely_ going to be an arm day," Jim snickered to himself in response to his body quivering slightly, not quite used to being on the rings anymore. It had been a short while, but Jim had been a level 10, there wasn't much he couldn't handle.

XXXX

1500 hours.

Spock had returned to his quarters from his office a short while ago having finished his grading for the weekend. He walked over to his closet, pondering what to wear. As far as civvies went, he didn't have very much. Most of his closet was dominated by several copies of the various uniforms he has worn or still wears: his old cadet reds from a several years ago when he was a student at the academy, his science his science blues from the mission he served under Pike, dress uniforms, and his Instructors' blacks, the uniform he now wears as a professor until the USS Enterprise completes her construction in just over 2 years time and he once again dons his blues and resumes his service under Captain Pike. On the floor sat a trunk that contained a few sets of both casual and formal Vulcan robes, tunics, slacks, and the one thing he needed for tonight: a tuxedo. His mother had insisted on having a tux made for him when he once again left for earth after visiting his home and family back on Vulcan. She had thought it important for him to "dress the part," his human half, at least once, or a least have the attire at his disposal if he chose not to acknowledge that heritage otherwise. On a day like this, he thanked his mother mentally as he was saved from the trouble of having to search for the appropriate attire of a formal event day of. Vulcans did not like last minute shopping. To do anything so last minute was considered illogical. You wouldn't catch any Vulcan doing last minute holiday shopping… assuming they even had any holidays to shop for, that is.

Spock donned the tuxedo in all its three-pieced glory. The tux still felt as if it fit him well. Spock briefly stroked the satin tie hanging off his neck before stopping the illogical hand movement and tightening it. He turned around to face the mirror. The tux fit Spock's slim and tall figure well, all black, just like his command uniform, save for the steel grey tie. There was only one problem.

The ever prim and proper Vulcan stood in a badly wrinkled tuxedo. Unacceptable.

Sighing, he undid his tie, unbuttoned and removed his jacket and shirt, and divested himself of his pants setting them all carefully on his bunk as he did so, leaving him in his tight-fitting undershirt and boxer briefs He was mentally cursing earth tailors and textile makers for having not yet followed Vulcan technology in creating wrinkle-proof clothing. Spock had never used an iron and ironing board before in his life. This was gonna be interesting…

After 20 minutes, he finally seemed to smoothe out all the wrinkles, every last one. He once again donned the tux and stepped in front of the mirror. It took him a while to pinpoint the problem, but there it was:

By ironing every wrinkle out, he got rid of the crease running down his pant legs. Sufficiently irritated with Terran clothing, he once again removed his shoes, socks, and pants and took out the iron and ironing board to re-crease the pant legs. Finally satisfied with the result, Spock removed the entire ensemble and placed them on hangers until he would once again wear the suit later.

It was just after 1530. He had two and a half hours to kill so he decided to go to the gym. He dressed himself in a more breathable version of his normal tight undershirts, compression pants, and running shoes and packed his towel, water, and toiletries in a bag and headed down to the gym.

When he arrived, he was greeted with a sight that literally took his breath away. 9 feet above the ground hung a human male from two rings facing away from with his arms straight out to his sides, forming a straight line with his shoulders. His biceps and triceps appeared to be fully engaged as well as the back muscles that peaked out from the back of his tight, black tank top. His toned legs that sprouted from admittedly short and loose fitting shorts were straight below him, bound together by invisible forces. Head head straight with the gym lights forming a halo through his blonde hair and a sleek silhouette, this man was the picture of strength and grace.

The sight instantly reminded Spock of images of centuries old cathedrals throughout Earth that he had seen, lone crosses with a man called Jesus Christ by the humans nailed. Here, there was no wooden cross, no nails, no thorns. This man was not Jesus Christ, but he appeared holy to Spock all the same.

The man had not seemed to notice him and without prompting, he slowly, carefully brought his arms together, pushing his lower body into the air behind him, sending his head and torso forward. He had moved himself into a picture perfect planche, his chest being the center of balance over his hands as he seemed to lay flat on his stomach on an invisible table. Spock was transfixed. He was tempted to say something, but he refrained at the high possibility of this beautiful human becoming startled, falling, and injuring himself.

Having held the planche for several moments, he slowly shifted again, bringing his head and shoulders lower and closer to the center of balance while doing the same with his legs, pushing the bottom half of his torso up, seemingly folding himself in half. With his feet level with the hands below him, arms now fully extended above (or below since he was now upside down) his head, he moved his legs up and out, straight out to his sides, briefly stopping at the halfway point upwards and maintaining an effortless 180 degree middle split before they continued their journey, ending in the man holding a handstand. Spock recognized the man instantly.

Without warning, the man started to shift his grip very slightly, let his legs fall in the manner they came and started a fast swing once he was no longer inverted before he flung himself from the rings, completing a front tuck before sticking his landing landing feet together on the mat below him, arms at his side before gracefully holding them in a Y-shape above his head. Spock took this opportunity to speak now that danger of the man hurting himself had reduced greatly.

"Cadet Kirk, what is that apparatus that you were just utilizing called?" Spock asked. Kirk had the living wits scared out of him. He whipped himself around in a blur.

"Jesus!" then he realized who had addressed him, "Oh, hey, Commander. You kinda startled me," he said with a sheepish grin, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"My apologies," Spock replied, bowing his head briefly, "that was not my intention."

"No worries… Anyways, I was just using the still rings."

"Where did you learn such skills?"

"I did gymnastics for a really long time, reached level 10 and all," the fair-haired cadet said proudly. Not many people knew this about him. He remembers how hard he had worked as a teen to hold the Iron Cross without looking like he was gonna die. Of course, he was 19 now, he was naturally stronger than his 15 year old self. Spock raised an impressed eyebrow. "Nice catching you here!"

Spock nodded in agreement, "It is agreeable to find you here as well, Cadet," he replied pleasantly. Despite the surprise of running into one of his students so closely in their off time, Spock didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. In fact, he felt more welcome by him than most other Terrans and others he encountered regularly. Not only was this cadet friendly, but he was intelligent… and fit. Something stirred in him. He found himself _wanting_ his company. Something he had never desired from any other before. Even the admittedly beautiful Uhura had to talk him into spending any time with her after having known him longer than most of his current students. He found her enthusiasm towards inviting him to things, disturbing his routine, slightly irksome, but she had at least always provided logical explanations as to why he should come with her, so he did. He would at least give her that. "Would you mind instructing me in this… gymnastics?" he said with a pause as he recalled the name of the activity. Kirk's eyes widened a fraction at his request.

"Sure! Uhhh, well I've never really been an instructor for this before, just the competitor… Are you okay with being my guinea pig?" he asked Spock with a laugh. Spock furrowed his brow.

"A… guinea pig? I do not believe Vulcans resemble the terran _cavia porcellus_ in the slightest, Cadet. I was not aware we appeared so to humans," Spock replied in confusion, "Fascinating."

"No, no, no, Commander," he was laughing heartily now, a wide grin splitting his face, blue eyes positively twinkling. Spock found the sight and sound incredibly pleasing. He wished to witness it more often. "By guinea pig, I mean like a test subject. I'll try my best to teach you if you are okay with some trial and error." Spock took a moment to consider any risk.

"I believe you are capable of aiding me without any risk too great for either you or myself," Spock reasoned. At this, Kirk clapped his hands together in an attempt to rid himself of the leftover chalk on his hands before removing his grips entirely and setting them on the floor.

"First things first," Kirk started, "Since I am now _your_ instructor, call me Jim, Commander," he said, beaming.

"Jim," Spock said, almost reverently. He immediately berated himself mentally for that. "In that case, Jim, you may refer to meas Spock." Jim's eyes widened again.

"Commander, I wouldn't want to disregard your rank like that…" Spock held up a hand to pause Jim's reply.

"I assure you that it is of no consequence. It is the weekend and I am off duty, you may call me Spock," Spock said with a hint of finality. Maybe he just wanted this man to use his name… Was that so bad? Well, then again, he never allowed allowed anyone here at Starfleet to address him by his given name previously. Fascinating. "You may resume referring to me as commander during the time when I am on duty."

"Oh, wow, okay," Jim said in surprise. This was going to take some getting used to. Jim may have had some issues in the past following rules before because of who he was as a person, but he had never really referred to any superior officer as anything but their rank (except Pike. After all, he was Jim's godfather). "Let's get started then, shall we, Spock?" Spock shivered slightly at hearing his name spoken by warm tenor voice. Moving to the Floor, Jim indicated that Spock should follow, and he did after he set down his own gym bag. "Ok, I'm going to show you the God almighty of gymnastics: the parent of all we gymnasts hold true," Jim said with mock ceremony. Spock found it positively amusing. He couldn't remember the last time he felt the urge to grin. "The handstand. If you can learn the handstand, you can learn anything as far as balance and strength skills go. Tumblings a whole different animal that we will cover _later_." Without further ado, Jim bent over, planted his hands on the ground, and pressed into a perfect handstand. He held it for several moments before returning to his feet.

Spock attempted to do the same, but found that he needed to kick himself up to get his legs even above his hips. _I should have given this handstand more thought_ , he thought to himself. He felt his legs falling toward the ground as quickly as they had come off it. Much to his surprise, as strong pair of hands caught his ankles and hoisted his feet up, straightening his body for him.

"That's it, there ya go, point your feet," Jim said encouragingly, before he manually manipulated Spock's feet to point them. As far as feet go, they are almost as sensitive as Vulcan hands, and those were _sensitive_ , but not in the painful way… Spock toppled over. He would have landed on his back had Kirk not been quick and braced Spock's shoulders with one arm and the backs of Spock's thighs with another. Spock felt the heat in his cheeks spreading to his ears and neck. He wasn't sure if it was from the fact that he was just upside down of because he was embarrassed by his own uncharacteristic clumsiness. Probably both, not that Spock would ever admit to the latter cause. "Woah, there, Spock!" Jim said with a surprised chuckle, "You okay?"

Spock brought himself to full height, _on his feet_ , "I am unharmed physically." He wasn't so sure about his ego. Another thing that he would never admit that he had. Ego was a human thing, he was _Vulcan_ , dammit. Apparently,Vulcans only had their their enviable grace and balance while upright. But then again, why would any being logically need the advantage for standing or walking on their hands, completely inverted for extended periods of time. The human advantage for being able to learn such skills was… illogical. At least, that's what Spock told himself. By 1700, Jim had helped Spock not only maneuver himself more smoothly into a handstand, but hold one for at least a few moments. It was good progress. Jim was proud of himself for not managing to cause the Vulcan to hurt himself. Spock looked to the chronometer, taking note of the time. Had it really been that long? He felt like he _just_ got there. "I regret that I must take leave now. I thank you for your instruction."

Much to Spock's surprise, Jim replied not only with the response that was customary on Vulcan, but _in_ Vulcan, " _Sarlah nash-veh dvin-tor_." [I come to serve].

Spock responded in kind, even if it was a bit redundant considering the fact that he had just thanked him, " _Vu dvin dor nash-veh,_ " [Your service honors me]. At that, they gathered their things, went to the locker room, showered themselves off, then walked in each other's company until the reached the Fork.

"You did very well today, Spock," Jim said warmly.

"I had a fine instructor," Spock replied, his own eyes twinkling for a change. "Perhaps we can arrange another lesson?"

Jim smiled widely at that, "I'd be happy to, Spock. How does tomorrow at say… 1600 hours sound?"

"I am agreeable to that. Until then, goodnight Jim," Spock said whilst bowing his head. He then turned and made his way into the staff housing, Jim watching his retreat, and up to his quarters to prepare himself for the night out. He found himself wishing for Jim to accompany him instead of Uhura.


	5. Ch 5: Giselle

Ch 5 (6 KSA) Giselle

1630 hours.

Nyota and Gaila shot up the path between housing and the parking lot, shopping bags and purses in hand, and into their dorm building with the speed of any sane girl who needed to look her absolute best for a hot date, but had virtually no time.

As soon as they barrelled into their quarters, Nyota stripped off her street clothes down to her skivvies, grabbed a towel and a razor, and rushed down the hall to the bathroom to make sure her skin was as smooth as the day she was born. After several minutes, she dashed back down the hall and to her room clad only in her skivvies and the towel she had wrapped around herself. She unleashed her hair from the tight no-nonsense bun she reserved for two things: field training on Fridays and intense shopping.

Upon plopping down in the stool before their vanity, Nyota laid out her array of moisturizers, bronzers, blush, eyeliner, eyeshadow, brushes of a variety of shapes and sizes, you name it. It was all there. Gaila stood nearby, a large-barreled curling iron hot and ready in her hands after laying the dress and shoes out on a nearby bunk. It was time to get down to business.

1745 hours.

Nyota secured the last bobby pin into her hair before Gaila, ever so helpful, came up behind her and spritzed her hair with hair spray. Her hair and makeup, while more rushed than either of them would have liked, turned out just as precise and beautiful as if she had had twice the amount of time to get ready.

Gaila set down the can of hair spray and set it next to the curling iron that had been turned off several minutes before when she started to style the loose curls. Standing behind her as if they were in a salon and Gaila the hairdresser, she placed her hands onto the tops of Nyota's shoulders, looking at her through the mirror.

"Ny, you look _gorgeous_!" she exclaimed in glee. They both took a few moments to admire their handiwork. As far as her eye makeup went, Nyota didn't look too different, save for the fact that she was now wearing a modest set of false lashes. Her cheeks, forehead, and chin were lightly dusted with a slightly shimmery bronzer. She had opted for a dark, but shimmery maroon lipstick and gloss that brought out warmer notes in her mocha complexion. Gaila fashioned the loose curls she made into an artfully messy bun low on Nyota's left side with what must have been a hundred so bobby pins, and a few short wavy pieces of hair in the front fell free to frame her face. In Gaila's eyes, her best friend looked like a goddess!

Now, it was time for the dress! Nyota quickly lathered herself in a fruity-scented lotion before removing her bra and stepping into her long evening gown. Gaila zipped her up in the back, only reaching waist, height. Gaila being gaila insisted that her friend not be afraid to show some skin, especially since this dress was still considered conservative by Orion standards. The impossibly midnight blue floor-length gown hugged her figure closely, cinched at the waist before loosening up a bit from hip to hem. In an effort to highlight Nyota's enviable décolletage, the gown they chose only had a single shoulder and sleeve on the right causing the neckline to dip diagonally and disappear under her left arm before reappearing and continuing its diagonal journey down her back until it met the natural valley in the middle and met with the other side to form a V. Her only piece of jewelry was a simple chunky silver bangle on wrist of her unsleeved left arm. The hem in the front of her was just short enough to allow brief glimpses of her strappy silver stilettos. Grabbing her matching midnight blue clutch that held a mirror, communicator, and the ballet tickets, Nyota hugged and air-kissed her favorite Orion and hurried towards the turbolift.

After their door to their quarters slid shut, Gaila's smile died. She sighed heavily, slowly walking to her bunk to lay down and watch TV. She sure hoped Nyota knew what the heck she was doing…

XXXX

1800 hours.

Spock stood quietly at the Fork dressed to the nines in his black tux, hair impeccably combed, shoes shiny as ever. His ears picked up the sound of heel clicks on the pavement growing quickly nearer to his position before Uhura's slender form rounded the corner of the student housing, allowing Spock to take in her rather elegant and tastefully revealing midnight blue gown.

"Looking sharp, Commander!" Uhura greeted pleasantly, a wide smile gracing her features. Spock nodded in return. "I had no idea that you had owned a tux," she continued. It fit him too well to have been a rental or a hurried night-of purchase. No, this one was expertly tailored.

"You look rather agreeable yourself, Cadet," Spock replied, "And yes, I am in fact in possession of my own tuxedo. My mother had one tailored for me during my last visit to Vulcan."

"Your mother has great taste."

"Indeed," Spock replied, pausing a few beats afterward before continue, "It would be prudent for us to start heading to the War Memorial Opera house now if we intend on arriving soon enough to find suitable parking and be seated before the performance starts. He waved his hand in the direction of the path that lead away from the housing, opposite the direction of the main quad, indicating that she should start walking now.

"Right," said Uhura, blushing slightly before she started her way down the path. Spock fell in step next to her staying a polite distance away. Spock lead her to the passenger side of his flitter, holding the door open for her.

"I believe it is customary for the male to hold the door open for the female, if I am not mistaken?" Spock inquired. Uhura's blushed deepened, much to her chagrin.

"Th-thank you, Commander," Uhura stuttered. _Smooth, Nyota, real smooth. Not like you just sounded like a timid school girl_ , she thought vehemently, taking her seat, careful not to let her dress snag on anything. The last thing she needed right now was a wardrobe malfunction!

Spock shut the door as she righted herself and rounded the flitter and took his own seat. He started the engine, lifting them off the ground and without another word drove them to the Opera House. The entire ride was silent. Ten long minutes. Nothing Uhura knew about small talk sounded like a good idea to say to strike up a conversation. Then again, Vulcans didn't _do_ small talk… they find it illogical. A waste of time and energy.

This was hard.

Spock found a parking spot about block and a half from the House. Once he switched the flitter off, he once again rounded it and held Nyota's door open for her as she stood. Uhura had finally found something to say.

"Are you excited?"

"Yes, I look forward to tonight's performance. I trust that you look forward to it as well?" Spock inquired.

Uhura leaned toward him slightly as they walked down the block, "Oh, more than you know!" for reasons she didn't really want to be totally forthright with. "I've seen Giselle once before several years ago and I loved it. I think you'll enjoy it."

"What is the premise of the ballet?" Spock was very curious of her claim.

"Well," she started as they began their ascent of the staircase leading to the entrance of the opera house, "The title character falls in love with a man who was already betrothed to another, outside of her knowledge. When she finds out, she becomes inconsolable and the stress caused her weak heart to give out. Even as a spirit, she still loved him and never held the deception against him, though since she is dead, they can't be together.." _I couldn't begin to imagine what that feels like…_ she thought to herself, _Luckily my Spock has no intended… No tragedy for me._ She smiled a small smile to herself.

Spock raised both eyebrows at the astounding illogic of the plot she described, "It is illogical of Giselle to have allowed herself to become so invested in a frivolous pursuit."

"Commander…" she said, turning to face him as they took their place in line. Everyone else around them were too invested in their own conversations to pay any attention to theirs. "Love makes everyone do _crazy_ things,"she said emphatically, casting an intense, unwavering gaze into the Vulcan's eyes. _Gaila calls this a crush… but it's said that if a crush lasts longer than four months, it turns to love. Taluhk nash-veh k'dular…_

Spock fought against the urge to fidget under her scrutiny. This conversation had taken a new tone that he could not identify. The tension in the air was basically a transparent aluminum hull plate at this point. Spock swallowed thickly. He had no idea how to respond to her statement. Her eyes bored into his a few moments longer before she cast her gaze towards the floor.

 _Caaareful, Nyota_ , she mentally chided.

Eventually, they reached the usher. They remained silent next to each other up until then. Spock had been admiring the intricate gold octagonal designs that constituted the ceiling of the lobby and the impeccably carved white pillars. Uhura had been stuck in her own head imagining all the fun things she wanted to show Spock one day, his hand in hers as they ventured through life and grew old together. At least, that's what she hoped.

They took their seats in the second row of the first balcony. They were both more or less gawking in awe of the exquisitely constructed performance hall, Spock's gaze shifting between every detail he could identify in front of them, Uhura's lips were parted slightly as her eyes did the same.

"This hall is _beautiful_!" she breathed, daintily bringing a hand to her breast, the other lightly touching Spock's bicep. He tensed at the contact, looking at her sideways through his lashes. Before he got the chance to react, perhaps pull away, his eyes shifted upward and caught sight of the magnificent circular fixture that took up most of the large ceiling. It dipped down lower and lower closer to the center resembling a delicate shallow funnel hailing down from the ceiling as if reaching down from the heavens, the the the blue tint seeming to glow, just as Jim's own eyes.

His mind wandered back to Jim… His enchanting blue eyes, his warm and bright smile, his sharp intellect, his strong form. His eyes wandered over to Uhura. She was smart, too, as well as aesthetically pleasing, but she was not Jim. He found himself wishing, with some guilt, that it was Jim seated next to him taking in the surroundings with the wonder and awe that projected itself onto Uhura's face.

"Indeed. The architecture of this establishment is impressive, both aesthetically pleasing and suited for its purpose." Spock could tell by the way the voices of the many people around them sounded that the acoustics of the concert hall were more than satisfactory. The multilevel layout both ensured that the sound carried evenly to the ears of each performance attendee and granted an unimpeded view of the stage no matter where one happened to be seated.

Uhura turned towards him in her seat as she gave him some background about the building and the area around it. Spock told her about similarly-purposed buildings in and around Shi'Kahr back on his homeworld as well as many more in Ra'al, the home to the Vulcan Institute of the Arts. His native province, Shi'Kahr, was more geared toward bettering the technological front of Vulcan society, being home to the Vulcan Science Academy. The house lights dimmed to warn the attendees that the performance was about to start. Not long afterwards, the lights turned off entirely before the curtains pulled themselves up, and, and away, revealing the softly lit village scene. Several ballerinas and danseurs pranced and lept about, costumed in peasant garb before they trickled off the stage and out of sight. A lone danseur took the stage, danced in clean lines and graceful leaps. A single ballerina revealed herself from the cottage and he hides himself from her view. She performed a lively dance, drawing his attention. Somehow, within the "logic" of romantic ballets, they fell in love with each other as they danced together. Eventually, his situation was made known to her by another villager and she died of her broken heart by the end of the first of the two acts.

As the house lights turned back on for intermission, Uhura allowed herself a small stretch. Having just finished watching all these fine ballerinas dance and having Spock seated next to her made her slightly self conscious as she stretched her limbs, taking care to emulate the grace of the women and men on the stage. She sighed, smiling while shifting her gaze to Spock.

"I'm going to stop by the ladies' room since it's intermission. I'll be right back," she said to him, grabbing her clutch as she stood. Spock watched her disappear in the crowd of people milling about to stretch their own legs and socialize. Spock remained seated. Some illogical part of him kept half-expecting a tuxedo-clad Jim emerging from the crowd of people. Spock was in bad need of meditation. The amount his mind has been wandering lately was astounding to him.

XXXX

Uhura was standing in the powdering room adjoined to the rest of the rather nice restroom. She seated herself on the end of a chaise in the corner and took out her communicator.

N_UHURA: _I have a REALLY good feeling about me and Spock!_

She received an almost instantaneous reply.

G_MRO: _waiiit what? really?!_

Uhura scoffed at her communicator. It's like Gaila was surprised that she may be succeeding in attaining Commander Hot Stuff! _Weird_ , she thought. She wasn't blind. She _saw_ the way he was looking at her. His eyes were slightly unfocused. She knew what yearning looked like. He had been on the receiving end of many of her yearning stares over the last several months. The only logical reason for that look on his face, in his eyes, was her… right?

N_UHURA: _yes, really! You should see the way he's been looking at me! I think he thought I didn't notice, but he's not as slick as he seems to think he is ;)_

G_MRO: _I think congratulations are in order then omg!_

N_UHURA: _no, not yet… they will be soon ;) I can feel it_

G_MRO: _I gotta be honest, I had my doubts at first. I was kinda skeptical, but it looks like all is go! ^-^ Go get him, tiger rawr_

N_UHURA: _It's nice proving you wrong, love ^_^ Ok, I gotta get back before Spock misses me…. or should I let him suffer? ;) jkjk_

G_MRO: _GOOO!_

XXXX

The second act seemed to go by a lot quicker. Giselle never got to have the guy. Poor girl.

"Sooooo," Uhura prodded, "did you like it?"

"I found the choreography stimulating to watch. Ballet is an impressive discipline of dance." He was amazed at the ease in which the ballerinas pranced about on their toes and eased themselves into penchés, a standing split (Uhura provided him with that knowledge). Vulcans were known for being exceptionally strong, three times as strong as a human. Flexibility-wise? They were not known for that. It seems the humans bested them in that area. Spock imagined a much younger version of his mother dancing the choreography that he witnessed that night. He wished she would dance for him. He wondered if she could still do the things she used to…

Uhura raised her eyebrows high, " _Impressive?_ That's mighty high praise from a Vulcan, Commander!"

"We give credit where it is due," Spock amended.

It was barely past 2100 when they exited the House to walk to the flitter and Uhura wasn't too keen on giving Spock up for the night. They had been talking enthusiastically about ballet. He asked a lot of questions about the discipline of ballet rather than the ballet that they had just seen. Uhura had done ballet for a few years before she discovered that she was much more fond of theatre. She was a huge drama nerd in middle school and high school and much better at acting than she was at ballet.

"Say, Commander," Uhura began, thrilled by her own daringness for not shying away from asking for more of Spock's time, "The night is still young and I don't know about you, but I could really go for some food right now."Her stomach piped up and punctuated her sentence with a low gurgle that she _knew_ Spock's ears picked up even with the interference whooshes of flitters overhead. She felt her cheeks and neck go red hot, mentally cursing the offending organ. Despite that, she maintained her focus on the Vulcan commander walking at her side.

"I have not eaten since early this morning. I find myself in need of sustenance as well. Is there any establishment in particular in which you wish to dine?"

"Yes, actually! Gary Danko at the Fisherman's Wharf. Everything there can be made vegetarian and there are quite a bit of vegan selections, too."

"I am agreeable to this option, but I must ask that you not base your choice solely on the fact that I do not consume meat. I am willing to dine at an establishment with both options appealing to Vulcans and Humans."

Uhura scoffed playfully at Spock, "pfffft, you think just because I'm human that I automatically prefer meaty options? I like vegetarian food too! Let's get en route to the restaurant, shall we?"

"As you wish, Cadet," Spock conceded. They reached the flitter soon after, Spock again took care to hold the door for her as she both entered and exited the vehicle. When they pulled up to the corner establishment on the Wharf, they were greeted with a valet who swiftly parked their car in a separate lot. The sconces positioned between each window gave the restaurant a mellow glow that somehow set it apart from the steady beams from the streetlights. When they entered, they were greeted by a tall blonde hostess, perfectly groomed, who exuded friendly and poised energy. Her gaze was warm as she regarded Uhura, but she straightened _almost_ imperceptibly as she noted the fact that her companion… her date… was a Vulcan. But not just _any_ Vulcan. A certain Vulcan known as Spock cha'Sarek, the son of a highly-respected diplomat, the grandson of T'Pau, one of the individuals that helped form the Federation, a member of the ruling houses on Vulcan, the house of Surak. Basically, his resumé was already infinitely more interesting than most others' in their quadrant because he simply existed. Nevermind the fact that he was one of Starfleet's most distinguished graduates. He was easily one of the most distinguished guests to ever walk through those doors in the 231 years the restaurant has been open for business.

Aside from the minute straightening, she had hardly batted an eyelash. Even smiling, the hostess modeled Vulcan composure well. Spock appreciated this.

"One table for two, please," Uhura requested.

"Is there a reservation that I can mark off?" _Shoot! I forgot to make one!_ She could have facepalmed herself. But then again, reservations for places as upscale as Gary Danko, where dinners cost 119 credits a person, not including wine pairings, and having only 75 seats, had to be made months in advance.

"No, I haven't made one…"Spock stepped forward, his already ramrod straight posture somehow straightening further. He seemed to grow a mile in height.

"I trust that this does not create a problem?" he asked. Uhura was taken aback. She didn't know that Vulcans actively took advantage of the fact that they intimidated the hell out of most humans. Or maybe just Spock did? The hostess got the hint.

"Actually, I think a spot just opened up. A lucky night for you two, sir," she played along, showing them to a cozy L-shaped booth that had a gorgeous white, tree-like sculpture with orange blossoms adorning its branches immediately behind Spock's side of the booth. Smooth jazz and the murmurs of soft conversation complimented the warm golden brown and other earth tones color palette of the small, but not cramped dining room. The setting laid out in front of her instantly reminded her of the pictures of upscale restaurants around the Alpha Quadrant that she had only seen in travel guides. There was no questioning that this was the nicest eatery she had ever set foot in, let alone sat in. She hoped it would meet Spock's paying for this dinner, she wouldn't have any fun-credits to spend for a little while.

 _The things I do for love…_ her mental voice commented ruefully.

The waiter, a tall, lanky man with soft hazel eyes got them started on a bottle of 2227 Chateau Tour de Mirambeau Cuvée Passion Blanc and they placed their orders soon after. Uhura peered at her wine almost glowing in the delicate gold-rimmed wine glass in front of her. Spock's upside down reflection in it bringing a smile to her face.

"Isn't this place just _gorgeous_ , Commander?"

"Indeed, the décor is aesthetically pleasing."

"So," Uhura started, leaning a tiny bit closer to him, "Aside from getting back to teaching for the new semester, how have you been?"

"I have been operating within acceptable parameters," he responded a bit blandly. Uhura frowned a bit.

"Oh, come on, you know I was asking more generally… Life, Commander, there has to have been _something_ notable that has gone on between summer and fall semesters," she chided. She wasn't surprised that she was more or less running into a wall. He _is_ Vulcan after all. "Almost a whole month between."

"As you know, I remained planetside as I was not needed back on Vulcan in that stretch of time.

Even in the summer of the northern hemisphere of the planet, the climate of this area left something to be desired given my Vulcan physiology. I spent a considerable amount of my time in the southwestern region of the United States."

"Oh? Whereabouts?" She asked sipping her wine. It was absolutely delicious. She sipped more greedily while still trying to appear ladylike. Like any other college student, given that the drinking age was lowered to 18 several decades ago, she was quite fond of alcohol.

"In a town called Tempe, just outside of Phoenix."

"Arizona, huh? Did you like it?"

"I found the climate of that region agreeable, however, in the future I believe I shall travel to Egypt. I have read that it is far hotter and drier than Arizona. I also find myself interested in the cultural artifacts found there."

"I … have always wanted to visit the pyramids of Giza," she lied. Personally, she was a fan of much more temperate weather. Deserts were _not_ her thing. But, Spock is Vulcan… if she is going to be with Vulcan, she should settle on becoming more willing to spend time in climates like that of Vulcan, right?

Spock sipped his own wine and found that he too was also agreeable to its sweet, mildly tangy, flavor. "Indeed? Most humans tend to not favor desert conditions."

"That may be for the lot of us that don't normally live in places like Egypt, but many of the people there are members of families that have lived there for centuries, millenia perhaps. And me? While I'm not from the desert, I find it interesting. One day, I hope to visit Vulcan," she said the last part with some emphasis. She polished off her first glass of wine, Spock doing the same moments later. It seemed that he was taking the cues to drink from her. It was adorable. Vulcan see, Vulcan do. Or at least Spock when he is attempting to be social with a human. Another waiter took note of their empty glasses and poured more wine from their bottle at the table. He had to do that a couple times before Spock and Uhura's food arrived at their table, eventually starting them on a second bottle. An artisanal cheese platter had been set just off center. They took their pickings from it, eating with bread. Spock had ordered a beet salad with watercress, Cara Cara oranges, goat cheese truffles, and hazelnut vinaigrette first and then a risotto with butternut squash and shimeji mushrooms as well as a French red pumpkin soup with apple and saba. Uhura had ordered a treviso and romaine salad with olives, anchovies, banyuls vinaigrette and parmigiano-reggiano first, then the same risotto as Spock with rock shrimp and dungeness crab added, and finally lemon pepper duck breast, bacon-braised endive, mountain berries and port. Needless to say, they both ate like royalty.

By the time they had finished each course, they had finished off two more bottles of the same wine. Uhura's head was swimming, but Spock at least appeared largely unaffected outwardly except from the delicate smattering of green along his cheeks. The waiter returned and took their order. Uhura, forgetting the fact that her companion was indeed Vulcan, went ahead and ordered a baked chocolate soufflé.

Spock looked at the delicate chocolate desert in front of him. He was slightly dizzy. He knew that Vulcans reacted to chocolate the same way that Humans did to alcohol, but the soufflé in front of him didn't appear to be enough.

But then again, he had never had chocolate before. Or alcohol.

2245

Spock savored the last bite of soufflé in his mouth before swallowing. He was distantly aware that he _probably_ should have skimped out on the soufflé especially since he had several glasses of wine. Being half human may or may not have made him more sensitive to alcohol than the average Vulcan…

The ever patient waiter set the bill on the table and Spock all but flung his credit chip at the little black folder propped up on the table. Not long later, his chip was returned to him and he pocketed it. He blinked several times in rapid succession in an attempt to clear the for his head was slipping into. He had never felt quite like this before. He felt warm. Too warm. He shrugged off the jacket of his tuxedo, leaving him in the black vest, shirt, and steel grey tie up top, and set it next to him in a sloppy heap on his side of their booth. He looked at Uhura. By the looks of her, she wasn't much better off than he was, if her flushed cheeks were any indication

"I-I think it would be... best if we retire for the evening, Cadet," Spock said, slurring a little.

Uhura's eyes were saucers. _Did he just say what I think he just said?! He wants to retire with me?_ She thought incredulously, instantly over the moon in joy. _Bedding on the second date?... Well, it's not the worst thing I've done_. "Yeah that would be _great_!"

Spock stood, swaying a bit, but his sense of balance still more or less intact. He placed his jacket in the crook of his elbow. Uhura stood a second later and the same thing could not be said about her own balance. She swayed dangerously before Spock reached out to hold her sleeved elbow before letting go after she had been steadied. They started walking towards the exit, but it was clear that she was going to need some help simply walking so he held her elbow once again as they walked out of the restaurant and waited for the valet to bring Spock's flitter around.

It took a handful of minutes and despite her flushed cheeks, Uhura shivered.

"Would you care for my coat?"

"Oh my God, yes! It's like the damn arctic out here and I only have one sleeve," she laughed, taking the offered jacket gratefully. The valet gave Spock his keys. Spock helped Uhura get seated without falling before he took his place at the drivers seat. Even in his inebriated state, Spock had the sense to use the flitter's autopilot function to get them back to the academy. All he had to do was park once they arrived.

After he parked, he helped Uhura stand once again. As they walked back to housing, Uhura leaned on him more and more. At one point, she had snaked a and around his lower back and set a hand low on his hip, leaning her head on his shoulder. He assumed it was for balance and dismissed it. As they neared the Fork, he slowed their pace and then stopped entirely once they reached it.

Uhura faced him fully, the hand she had on his hip slowly slid up to his shoulder without breaking contact. _Perhaps her balance is more compromised than I thought_ , Spock reasoned. His foggy mind couldn't identify the cause of that mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Your place or mine, _Commander_?" She slurred, her voice low and sultry. Spock didn't quite understand her question. Since she was far more intoxicated, it was only logical that he walk her to her "place" instead of the other way around or simply leaving the woman at the Fork.

"Yours."

Uhura grinned. "Onward," and she resumed her prior position, her hand slithering back down to its spot on his hip.

While in the turbolift, she had sent a message to Gaila telling her to make herself scarce and do it quickly. She was gonna have _company_ tonight! Uhura could barely contain her excitement.

The two now stood in front of the door to hers and Gaila's quarters. As soon as the door swooshed open, Uhura turned to face Spock, who had been behind her, got ahold of the portion of his tie that was visible on top of the vest and pulled him into her quarters. Before he could react, her lips met his. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips as his hands found resting spots on her hips. She backed them pretty clumsily all the way to her bunk and pulled him down on top of her once the backs of her legs made contact with its edge.

After another few moments of some seriously heated kissing, Spock brought himself up from his elbows and straightened his arms. He loomed above her.

"I cannot," he stated shakily, horrified at what he had just done. He did his best to make his way to the other end of the bunk then stood up, facing away from her. His cheeks burning not only from the fact that he was quite intoxicated, but by pure shame. Uhura sat up quickly, making her head swim, confused.

"Spock, wait! What do you mean you can't?!" She demanded.

"You are not Jim," and with that, he all but ran out of her quarters.

Uhura felt hot tears of anger and shock, but mostly embarrassment pricking her eyes. As they started falling, she removed her jacket, Spock's jacket, and threw it to the far corner of the quarters. She kicked off her heels and peeled off her dress before pulling on a tank top and loose shorts. Just as she was about to lay down, her stomach lurched. Her eyes all but bulged out of her head as a hand clamped itself over her mouth as she stumble-ran out of the quarters and to the bathrooms at the end of the hall.

Streams of tears streaked her face as Uhura retched into the toilet she was kneeling next to.

XXXX

2315 hours.

Gaila sat in the lobby of the dorm building waiting for any one of her friends to respond to her last minute plea for something to do for the night. Looks like Ny was getting lucky tonight. She was shocked. _Maybe I was wrong about the whole "He's not interested in you, Ny, he wants Jim" thing…_

Next thing she knows, she sees a Vulcan clad in black rushing from the turbolifts and out of the door. She doubted that he even noticed her sitting there. Those two had _just_ gotten there. There was no way he could be leaving now, all but running out of the building… Unless..

"Oh, _no_ …" she breathed in shock. She immediately raced to one of the turbolifts, cursing them for not being quick enough in their ascent.

When she entered their quarters, Nyota was nowhere to be found, just her clothes and what she assumed was the commander's jacket strewn about their quarters, the covers of her roommate's normally immaculate bed rumpled.

She made her way down the hall to the bathrooms and sure enough, she found her friend passed out on the tiled floor next to a toilet.

"You poor thing," she said sadly, crouching next to Nyota and stroking her hair. She could smell alcohol on her breath as it came out in puffs. Knowing it was useless for her to try to wake her friend in this state after already blacking out, she flushed what was left from the retching that had probably just taken place and scooped her friend's lithe form into her arms before standing and walking down the hall and back into their shared quarters.

She placed Nyota on her bunk and tucked her under the covers before grabbing some makeup wipes and removing as much of the night's ruined makeup from her friend's face and then left a cup of water on the nightstand.

Gaila moved to her own bunk, switched off the lights, and watched tv until she eventually fell asleep.


	6. Ch 6: Push & Pull

Spock rushed into his quarters the moment the door slid open. Leaning against the door, he palmed the locking mechanism by the frame then proceeded to slide down the door with his back til he sat upright on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. His hand scrubbed his face in a very un-Spock-like manner and sighed as he willed his heart rate to slow.

 _What have I done?_ He asked himself brokenly in his mind. He kept asking himself that same question. He also wondered why he allowed her to get as far as she did. _Why did I not notice her advances sooner?_

The longer he pondered his own admittedly simple questions, the more foolish he felt. His Vulcan physiology allowed him to metabolize the alcohol he consumed much quicker and his head was gradually clearing. The clearer it got, the more obvious Uhura's advanced seemed much more obvious compared to when they were at dinner. Spock cursed himself for allowing himself and Uhura to become so intoxicated. Had he simply stuck to his dinner and water, none of this would have happened. He also reasoned that Uhura wasn't in her right mind and didn't realize what she had been doing.

Spock cradled his temples as the beginning of a pretty gnarly hangover began to set in. The con of having a much faster metabolism: drunkenness was short and the consequence came sooner.

Spock then stood and walked to his private bathroom, a commodity that instructors and other academy personnel were provided that cadets were not. He brushed his teeth before he stepped into the shower in an attempt to both clean himself physically but also to lighten his conscience. The latter endeavor was not successful. He placed that night's clothing into the 'fresher and donned the thermal pants and shirt he customarily slept in since San Francisco weather always chilled him, even inside him. He dearly missed the adjustable environmental controls on board the Vulcan starships that took him to and from Vulcan. He had heard rumors that the Enterprise engineers had included that feat in the designs of the flagship that was still in the early stages of construction. He would know for certain later in the future when construction is near complete and specs are released to the relevant crew.

Clad in his thermals, less chilly than before, Spock knelt on his meditation mat and focused inwardly. Instead of dwelling on what happened, he chose to simply attempt to keep his mind completely blank. After about a half hour of blessed blankness, he finally allowed himself to lay down and slip into deep slumber.

XXXX

1130 hours.

Nyota cracked open an eye. Thankfully, Gaila had the heart to keep the curtains of their window closed and the quarter lights off even though she loved the sun and not still sleeping. Her friend was lounging on her side playing some sort of game on her padd, sound effects muted.

"Morning, Ny," she said just loud enough to be heard, but still mindful of the fact that the woman in front of her probably had a massive headache.

Nyota opened her mouth to return the greeting, but closed it again promptly. Water. She needed water. Her face softened a little when she caught sight of the glass of water sitting next to her on the nightstand. She lifted herself a little, groaning, and drained the glass in gulps to soothe her parched mouth and throat. It took some of the edge off the headache she had going on.

"... Damn, I feel like shit…" she said partly to herself and partly to Gaila, "What happened last night?" She remembered the ballet and she remembered up until after they ate their second course at dinner. Everything else was a huge blank space.

 _Damn, she really doesn't remember… What do I even say?!_ "Well, I didn't really witness anything, but that jacket over there," she said, pointing a delicate green finger to the small black heap in the far corner, "is not yours." She didn't have the heart to tell Nyota about how she found her in the bathroom or what she thought might've happened. She didn't want to hurt her with speculation. All she had was some educated guess. And quite frankly, this was between Nyota and Spock and none of _her_ business.

Nyota got up, ignoring the protest from her throbbing temples, and picked up the jacket. "Yep. Spock's," she confirmed. "You don't think we…" she said half anxiously… half hopefully.

"Hooked up?" Gaila finished for her, "Uuuuh well I really don't know anything... I wasn't there, Ny. All I know is that he wasn't in here all that long."

 _Huh_ , Nyota thought, _nothing really happened then. Probably just came in to say goodnight or something_. "Oh, okay then. I guess that's a good sign. Drunk me can handle herself!"

Gaila hid her grimace behind a smile, "... yeaaah. Sure."

Surprisingly enough, Nyota didn't catch that awkwardness. Gaila pushed the uneasiness she was feeling to the back of her mind, her tendency to be nosy getting the best of her. Nyota still had deets to spill about the part of the date she remembered!

"Sooooo, you ever gonna tell me how the rest of the date with Commander Hot Stuff went?"

Nyota took that as her cue to ramble at Gaila in the massive word vomit-y, extremely detail-oriented (with a fair amount of exaggeration and extrapolation) narration style only used when two best friends were talking about some juicy story. Gaila's ears were wide open.

XXXX

1600 hours.

Spock walked into the gym clad in his workout clothes. Jim was already there.

"Hey, Spock!" Jim greeted exuberantly, standing up from the pushup position he had been in.

"Good afternoon… Jim," Spock returned with a very slight pause. He was still getting used to addressing him as Jim. Spock took note of Jim's lack of shoes and socks and took off his own.

"How are ya," he said, beginning to stretch his body slowly, cueing Spock to follow suit.

"I am functioning within normal parameters," came Spock's customary response to the common query, "I trust that you are well?"

Jim touched his fingertips to his toes, folding himself in half with his stomach and chest flush against the fronts of his legs, then flattened his hands entirely on the floor. Not only was Spock treated with another small demonstration of Jim's impressive flexibility (the memory of Jim transitioning smoothly into and out of a full middle split while on the still rings on their first gym encounter was still fresh in his mind), but the hem of Jim's white tank top wriggled up his back as his torso was inverted and revealed two pronounced dimples in his lower back just above the waistband of his black shorts that intrigued Spock. Spock followed suit. Much to his dismay, he was only able to reach his fingertips about ¾ of the way down his shins, leaving over half a foot between his fingers and the spring floor they stood on. What he lacked in flexibility, he most likely made up for in strength. At least he hoped… illogically. He wasn't entirely sure that the fact that he was naturally much stronger than the human before him would actually give him any leg up in a sport that demanded such a high strength-to-flexibility ratio.

Spock continued to mimic the various postures that Jim modeled for him then after several minutes of stretching, Jim really put on his coaching cap. "Allllllright, Spock," Jim started enthusiastically, clapping his hands together once. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How scared of falling are you on a scale of 1-10?" Spock stiffened slightly.

"Fear is illogical,"Spock replied coolly.

"Hey, hey, hey, just want to know what I'm in for as your teacher. Sorry," Jim held up his hands, conceding. "Soooo, uh, I think today we're gonna get a decent handstand going for you. Then we can start on cartwheels and handsprings, yeah?" he asked, already putting Spock's bristling behind him. Spock didn't know what any of those meant, the cartwheels and such. Nevertheless, he nodded his head. "Awesome! I think you'll like this." After that, Jim walked up to a corner of the square spring floor. He puffed up a little as he took a deep breath, then started running in the direction of the diagonal corner. Just under halfway in, he stutter stepped into his first hand spring, looking like a quick lengthy lunge before he inverted himself completely and blocked his shoulders when his hands met the floor to push himself up and over. He repeated the lunge-to-block motion one more time to complete a second front hand spring before he landed solidly, knees bent slightly, before straightening and holding his arms up. His face went from focused back to its normal softness as he faced Spock.

"Is it appropriate for me to assume that I will learn this skill during tonight's session?" Spock inquired, intrigued. He made a mental note to conduct some research on Terran gymnastics when he went back to his quarters later in the evening.

"I don't know about you learning to connect them to do doubles and triples. Maybe we can get you doing good singles? First things first, though! Cartwheels and handstands!"

It took about an hour to get Spock to be able to hold his handstands for any good amount of time and to roll out of them. And surprisingly enough, Spock got the cartwheel absolutely perfect on the first try. Jim smiled at the sight of Spock practicing his cartwheels, connecting them in lines going up and down the spring floor. It reminded him of when he was a kid going to practice after school. Needless to say that Spock putting his game face on for cartwheels was absolutely adorable!

The handsprings, though… They didn't go quite as smoothly. Spock could get through singles decently so long as Jim was spotting him, making sure he went all the way over. Spock got a little too "good" (he did well enough for being brand spanking new) at handstands and that was causing him to get stuck smack dab in the middle of his handsprings.

"I believe I am ready to attempt a single handspring at this juncture, Jim. If you would permit me?"Jim shrugged. He didn't see why not.

"Sure, I don't see why not! Let's go!" And he moved to the outer edge of the floor while Spock took his place at the same corner Jim had when he had given the initial demonstration. He took two deep breaths and gave himself a running start. Right foot, left foot, right, left, right, right (the stutter), left lunge, block shoulders. Just like he practiced. As soon as his feet landed he, without thought, immediately launched into an explosive second. Something that would have been better _not_ to do.

When Spock moved to block his shoulders for the second push, there was too much weight bearing straight down and not enough moving forward. Not being prepared for that error, his left shoulder buckled then the arm attached to it, sending him toppling hard to his left. Jim grimaced at the scene laid out in front of him. Spock had been doing so well up until now… what happened? _Ouch… That haaad to have hurt!_ He thought to himself as he jogged to where Spock was beginning to sit up. He was cradling his bent arm awkwardly with his right hand

Jim hissed in sympathy. "Looks like you hurt your arm… Doesn't look like anything is broken."

"Indeed, I have no broken bones; however, I do believe that I have managed to dislocate my right shoulder."

"Ah, I know how to right you… Do you mind if I help? If it doesn't work, we can go to the infirmary."

"I am amenable to that. Proceed." Jim knelt a foot or two from Spock's seated form, next to the injured shoulder, facing him. He gingerly grabbed ahold of Spock's clothed elbow and wrist with his hands. The arm stayed bent at a 45-degree angle, but Jim moved the forearm so that it more or less stuck straight out from Spock's side. Maintaining the elbow's angle, he move the arm up towards Spock's head, causing the fabric of the sleeve to shift and Jim's warm hand make contact with Spock's wrist and palm. Spock inhaled sharply. Jim immediately halted his movement.

"Am I hurting you? Should I stop?"

 _Precisely the opposite, Jim_ , Spock thought, feeling a slight blush creep into his cheeks. He kept his sight trained away from their now joined hands. "Negative. You may continue," he said as his palm tingled pleasantly, the sensation slowly traveling up his arm as their hands rubbed slightly as Spock's arm slowly rose higher and higher. Jim laced his fingers between those of Spock to get better hold as the arm was now high above their heads. Spock became grounded once more when his shoulder finally popped back into place.

"Alright! Good as new, Spock," Jim declared jovially, face showing immense relief. "Did it hurt a lot? You're pretty green." Spock only then became aware of the intense flush heating his face, neck, and ears brought on by the prolonged hand-holding. Spock immediately worked to bring his coloring back to normal. He wasn't going to remind Kirk on how intimate the contact was given that he is Vulcan. He did not wish to embarrass the man who had just helped him relocate his shoulder.

"I assure you it is of no consequence, Jim," Spock replied evenly, "However, I believe I should refrain from aggravating my shoulder further with continued exercise for the time being." He stood up gracefully, Jim followed.

"Yeah, I wasn't even gonna suggest it. Do you wanna grab some food with me? It's right around my dinner time."

"I am agreeable to that. I thank you for your instruction in this sport."

"Great! And it really is my pleasure. Believe it or not, you're a natural. Day two and already trying to connect handsprings!" Jim praised.

"I believe credit towards an effective instructor is due," Spock said pointedly looking at Jim, earning a deep blush from the human that was a nice sight to the Vulcan, as they collected the shoes they removed when they first arrived and walked to the locker room. Jim peeled off his shirt just as they entered the locker room and reached for a towel. Spock eyed the muscles on Jim's back that were previously hidden by the tank top. The more he saw of Jim's body, the more he found himself curious about seeing more. Spock quickly removed himself from that train of thought and walked to his own bag, being courteous enough to face away from Jim. As soon as he did, he heard the distinct fabric rustle of shorts dropping to the floor. Spock swallowed thickly. He turned around once more.

Jim stood a few feet in front of him clad in only a white towel wrapped loosely and low about his slender hips, revealing as much as the V formed by Jim's impressive abs as decently possible. Spock's mouth went dry. Jim picked up his shorts and briefs from the floor and put them in the bag with his shirt, change of clothes, and toiletries.

"I'm gonna sit in the sauna for a bit before I actually shower and stuff for dinner. You're welcome to join me or not if you don't want to," Jim said as he walked towards the portion of the locker room that housed the sauna and showers. Just before he entered that portion of the rooms he turned back to face Spock, "If you do decide to come in, I'd recommend just a towel like I'm in. It's hot in there. Even for Vulcans," then he continued on his way and into the sauna. Spock quickly shed his own clothes and wrapped his hips in a similar fashion to Jim with his own towel and entered the sauna a few moments later.

As soon as he entered, he was greeted with hot, dry air that was barely within his comfort zone. He vastly appreciated the likeness to his arid homeworld, given that Earth was comparatively much cooler in most regions. His muscles quickly began relaxing, the ache in his shoulder substantially dulled.

"I have been lead to believe that humans did not favor hot, dry conditions. It is over 200 degrees Fahrenheit in this room," Spock noted.

"Well yeah, normally we don't, but it's nice on occasion," Jim replied with a shrug, "This must be nice for you though, Vulcan being a desert planet and all."

"I do find myself more agreeable to this environment due to my Vulcan physiology, yes," Spock conceded. In more ways than one, he did. One, the temperature was more than warm enough to soothe the almost constant chill he felt while residing on this planet. Two being that this glorious human was sweating and dressed in only a flimsy towel. Vulcans didn't sweat like humans did so watching the lightly tanned body become increasingly shinier the more time they spent in there fascinated him. Jim asked Spock about where he came from, what it's like compared to Jim's planet and Jim returned the favor by telling him about Iowa. Vulcan was known for its particularly rugged terrain, especially the region surrounding Shi'Kahr, where Spock grew up, so imagining a place that was "flat as paper for miles and miles" was somewhat difficult. He made a mental note to visit the midwestern region of the North American continent in the future.

By the time they finally remembered that they were to catch dinner together, Jim's skin had more than just a sheen of sweat and his skin was definitely rosy. He didn't really notice or care. His Vulcan companion made great company! They each showered themselves off and changed into their changes of clothes, Jim in a blue T-shirt and black joggers, Spock in a black long-sleeved thermal and black soft pants. It was nearly 2000 hours and the summer skyline was only just starting to slowly dim. They walked over to the mess hall, gym bags in hand, deep in conversation. They didn't notice Nyota and Gaila seated at a table in the far corner of the mess hall, but they definitely noticed him.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Nyota whisper-shouted to her friend seated across from her. "They work out together?" she asked incredulously, taking notice of their bags, laid back attire, and damp hair.

"Looks like they do," Gaila affirmed uncomfortably. _Okay, maybe I was right in the first place… there's probably something going on between those two…_ she thought to herself.

"That's absolutely ridiculous. Kirk can have a whole workout session with the Commander, but I couldn't have a simple uninterrupted meal because of that asshole," she huffed. She set down her fork on her tray and gave Gaila a pointed look, "It's payback time. Let's go."

"Wait, what? Ny, leave them alone," Gaila replied quietly, but urgently, "Sit down!"

"No, two can play at this game. Kirk crashed my first date with the commander. It's my turn," she said determinedly, straightening to full height and picking up her tray of food. "You coming or what?"

Gaila heaved a sigh. _Well, I can't just leave her…_ "Fine, but don't say that I didn't tell you _not_ to." Gaila stood and collected her own tray. The pair walked over to where Jim and Spock were seated. Jim noticed them first.

"Oh, hey, Gaila!" He greeted warmly, pausing on purpose before greeting the other woman, "Hey, Uhura," he said with false fondness. He knew she didn't like him. Didn't mean he was going to stoop to her level and be openly hostile, especially in front of Spock.

"Hey," Gaila returned, half-forcing a smile. Only half because despite the awkwardness that she felt being around Spock because of what she guessed happened last night, she was actually friends with Jim whether Nyota liked it or not. "Commander," she greeted respectfully.

"Is this seat open, Commander?" She asked, channeling Jim's presumptuousness from the other night. She sat in the chair immediately next to Spock. Gaila took her own next to Jim. Spock stiffened. Unlike Nyota, he remembered everything that happened the night before. He illogically wished he hadn't.

"Given that you are presently occupying it, the seat is no longer available to any others," he replied stiffly. Nyota just brushed it off as his typical Vulcan bluntness. She didn't catch any of the slight irritation present in his tone. Gaila and Jim did, though. The four of them engaged in light conversation for about an hour, Spock mostly addressing Jim and Gaila, Nyota almost always directing her attention to Spock. Something he found unnerving. Gaila noticed it immediately and felt bad for the poor Vulcan. This whole situation must've been awkward as hell for him. She couldn't stand the awkwardness anymore herself, being the only other person that had any idea as to why this was awkward in the first place. She took a peek at her communicator, looking at the time. 2045.

"Oh, Ny, we gotta go," Gaila said with urgency that she really didn't need to use.

"What? Why?" Nyota asked, genuinely confused and more than a little irritated.

"Remember that _thing_ we had to do tonight?" She asked, blue-green eyes boring into Nyota's brown ones.

"Oh, uh, _that_ thing? I totally forgot…" Nyota replied, not sure why Gaila was doing this, but trusting her friend's judgement enough to know that they should probably leave for whatever reason. "Sorry, Commander. Looks like we have to go," she said apologetically.

"It is of no consequence," Spock assured, bowing his head slightly. The two women rushed to dispose of their trays and head out of the Mess Hall. As soon as the doors closed, Nyota spun to face her Orion companion angrily.

"Okay, Gaila… what was _that_ about? Everything was fine!"

"Surely someone like you in the comms track noticed the poor guy was uncomfortable, Ny."

"Who? Kirk?"

"No… Commander Spock," Gaila corrected, giving Nyota pause. Why was he uncomfortable? As far as she remembered, last night was fine. Then, she remembered the tux jacket in a heap on the floor in her quarters. Her eyes widened.

"The jacket!" Nyota exclaimed. "Oh my god, Gaila, did something happen last night?" She asked in a panic.

"I-I honestly don't know. I don't have the details, but you passed out on the floor in the bathrooms. You were drunk as a skunk."Nyota hid her face in her hands in shame, desperately trying to remember what happened after their second course during dinner. Gaila rubbed her back, trying to soothe her friend. After a few moments, Nyota's head shot up, face frozen in horror.

" _I kissed him! Oh god!_ " She cried out, "I ruined everything…" she finished quietly, mentally kicking herself, hard. "Gaila, what if he wants nothing to do with me?" Gaila pulled her friend into a hug as tears started to well up in Nyota's eyes. The girl was devastated.

"I think you need to talk this out with him, Ny. Don't have any expectations. Just hash it out. It doesn't look like he's open to a relationship so just focus on being in good graces for now." Nyota took a step back, wiping her tears away with the backs of her hand with a small smile.

"Okay. Maybe we can be friends…?"

"That's more like it," Gaila replied, returning the small smile, "how about ice cream and horror flicks back in our room?" Nyota lit up at that. Her best friend knew her well.

XXXX

"That's twice now that Uhura's left us in a hurry," Jim said with a chuckle, referring to the other night.

"Yes, the behaviors of both Cadet Uhura and Cadet Mro were a tad erratic," Spock commented. Jim suddenly shifted his attention to a spot over Spock's shoulder, eyes straining to focus on something somewhat far away. Spock twisted to follow his gaze. Jim was watching what appeared to be a 3D chess match on a television screen. "Do you play three-dimensional chess, Jim?"

"Yes," Jim breathed, still focused on the match between two grand masters on the screen. Apparently whoever had been watching the tv last followed chess competitions. "My mom taught me when I was a kid. We played together when she was planetside," then Jim's gaze shifted to Spock's, wistful, "I remember during one of her stints on duty, a time where comms were hard to maintain because she was out of range sometimes, I would send her these super short messages. 'Queen to queen's level three'... ," he paused, "the gaps between our comms spanned days, weeks, sometimes months… but surely enough, I'd get one back… 'Queen to king's level one'. Sometimes we'd play whole games when she was out there, slowly. It kept her close even when she was light years away." Jim got quiet. He thought of how those matches were some of the only things he really ever looked forward to. It was easier for them to be chess opponents than mother and son. Coming back to the present, Jim asked, "Do you play too?" Jim received a single slow nod from the Vulcan across from him.

"We should play some time, Spock," Jim said joyfully. Spock was smart. Surely he'd make a great opponent. "It'd be an interesting platform for you to give me those lessons in Vulcan negotiations tactics."

"Indeed. Your logic is sound," Spock paused a moment, wondering if what he would say next would come off as presumptuous. He continued anyway, "I am in possession of a tri-dimensional chess board that I received from my father in my office. I offer you a challenge. Do you accept?"

"Tonight?"

"Affirmative."

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we!" Jim exclaimed happily, standing and collecting his food tray. Spock let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding, stood, and joined Jim in disposing of their trash in a nearby receptacle. Once they got to Spock's office and set up, they stayed planted in their seats, a close game of logical moves (Spock's) and increasingly illogical, but somehow effective counter moves (Jim's), leaving them at an impasse a bit past 2300 hours.

"Alright, I'd _love_ to sit here and start another game so _someone_ can win, but I'm afraid we're both expected out there," Jim said, pointing a thumb behind him to the dark, empty lecture hall just beyond the threshold of the office door, "by 0800 hours. Plus, cadet curfew is 0000 hours on nights preceding instruction days," he finished with an eye roll.

"That is correct," Spock affirmed. He didn't even notice the time until then. "Shall we head to the living quarter?"

"Sounds good," and they packed up the pieces and board. They walked together to the Fork in between student and staff housing. "Let's play again some time this week?"

"I am amenable to future matches," came the reply.

"Good, get ready for my triumph, Spock," Jim jived playfully, earning an amused eyebrow lift on an otherwise passive face.

"We shall see," Spock said, dark eyes positively glimmering in the light provided from the nearby light post. "Until then, I bid you goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight, see ya at 0800!" And with that they both turned their separate ways, a little lighter in step as they retired to their living spaces.


	7. Ch 7: Honesty Is Best Policy

0730 hours.

Uhura paused just outside of the lecture hall's door's sensor range to tug at the hem of her uniform skirt and adjust her collar. With a deep breath, she entered the sensor's range and then the dark hall itself. On the far end of the room, light spilled from the rectangular doorway that lead to the commander's office. She hesitated once more before shaking her head and continued to the source of light.

"Good morning, Commander… A moment, please?"

"I am currently occupied with the task of completing the grading of another class's tests, Cadet. Perhaps after the conclusion of your class here?" he replied coolly, devoid of a return of the usual return of the morning greeting. Uhura bristled visibly.

"Sir, it will only take a minute," her voice raised slightly as she pushed on because she saw Spock open his mouth to reply, "It's something we've been needing to talk about." Spock shut his mouth. The silence was pregnant with tension. He knew exactly what she was referring to, not that it was ever likely that he'd forget.

"I will allow it," he grudgingly conceded. While he knew it was logical to 'talk it out' as the humans say, he illogically wanted to forget what happened the other night. Uhura heaved a sigh,

"Thank you," she moved next to the seat in front of his desk, but decided to still remain standing, "First off, I'm incredibly sorry about what happened on Saturday night… It was low of me… Inappropriate. I completely understand if you decide to bring this to the administrator attention." She held her head high. If anything, she was a proud woman. A stupid mistake wouldn't change that fact about her.

"Due to the nature of your transgression, I would report it to my superiors," Spock started. Uhura's chin fell a little lower at that.

 _Looks like I'm getting suspended today. So much for a good track record. Sexual harassment of an instructor, a superior… Let's hope they are kind and don't punish me worse…_ Uhura groused internally.

"However," Spock continued with the slightest inflection, "as this behavior is so divergent from that of yours that has been previously-established as a result of your elevated blood-alcohol level, my superiors shall not be informed."He reasoned that it was the least he could do for the cadet who had, before Saturday night, not gotten into trouble of any kind, as far as the academy was concerned. Relief washed across Uhura's face and the muscles in her neck relaxed.

"Thank you so much," she responded meekly. She was honestly surprised that he was so kind, but the tightness in his own face meant the awkwardness was far from over. She knew right then that it was time to stop kidding herself and let Spock be. At least she wasn't going to be punished for it… "I- I'm gonna go now… Maybe find something in the Mess to bring here. I'll see you in class," she backtracked out of his office then turned to walk swiftly back across the dark lecture hall. She didn't end up going to the mess, she just sat on the bench in the terrace just outside the hall until her classmates eventually started filing into class.

The morning went along smoothly, as always, except for the fact that Uhura didn't sit in her customary spot in the front row on the bottom of the amphitheater-like lecture hall. Or the second. She seated herself several rows back and far to the right. She didn't think she could handle sitting as close to Spock as she had before now that he knew that she not only had feelings for him, but foolishly acted upon them. Uhura wasn't one to sulk with her proud and confident nature, but she was definitely walking around with her tail between her legs now.

XXXX

1100 hours

The cadets rushed out of class after an intense day of studying compound and more complex Iconian sentence structure. Terrans thought learning Latin, a long dead language in the age of Federation Standard, felt far removed. Students from all over the explored Alpha quadrant struggled to wrap their minds around Iconian, a parent language many millennia older than the oldest base languages from various planets. Jim remained seated for a bit, observing Spock as the Vulcan shut down his projector and prepared to go to his office to begin grading his work. Despite his smooth movements, he appeared unusually tense. At least that's how it appeared to Jim and he considered himself a pretty good reader of body language. "Long day, Commander?" Jim suspected his eyes might have tricked him, but he could have sworn that he detected the slightest jump from the only other man in the room.

"I beg your pardon?" Spock answered quizzically, voice not betraying any of the surprise that his body just expressed. He had been distracted and believed himself to be alone. "It is only now 1103, 46.04% into the day. Additionally, the length of each full day does not change, therefore it cannot be long or short when the 24-hour day is all that has been known on this planet."Most people would have rolled their eyes and written the Vulcan's response in as a know-it-all's response with irritation, but Jim found this tendency in Spock endearing and it made him smile.

"Of course," he said whilst holding his hands up in concession, "I guess it _was_ illogical of me to phrase it that way… I asked because you look kinda preoccupied."

"I assure you that I am well, Cadet," Spock replied almost indignantly. The blonde's statement implied that Spock allowed a slip in control over his composure and it didn't sit well with him with as hard as he worked to uphold the image of the ever logical Vulcan that both humans, Vulcans, and virtually every other species that knew what a Vulcan was expected.

"Mhmmm...You sure you're not bothered?" Jim asked again with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Oh, and the name's Jim. Don't be afraid of it."

"Why would I be af- No matter. It would be inappropriate of me to share details of my personal life with a student."

"Oh really, huh? Didn't I just pop your dislocated back in not that long ago? Plus, I didn't ask for nitty gritty details if you didn't wanna give them. But I'm still a little curious." Spock just looked at him with keen dark eyes, his stare unwavering. He drew in a deep breath through his nose.

"If you must know, I am currently dealing with a situation that would be considered 'awkward'. I do not wish to elaborate further."

"Awww you're no fun. At least clue in a little? There are a lot of things that could be considered awkward and you don't want me to jump to conclusions do you? That would be _illogical_ if you are able to provide me with some information."

"While your intent is… strange… your logic is sound." Jim crossed his arms proudly across his chest with a smirk. "I recently found myself on the receiving end of unwanted romantic attention by a student."

"You're kidding!" Jim exclaimed in shock. This would have been a water-spitting moment had he had water in his mouth. This was far down the list of things he expected to hear about Spock's awkward situation.

"I assure you that I am being completely serious."

"Ok, I'm not gonna ask who or anything, but wow. Whoever that was had some real courage."

"Indeed she did."

 _She?_ He thought to himself. Another smirk. The next words came out of his mouth escaped before he could take the time to think about it (as it usually happened), ¨I don't blame her. You'd be quite the catch." In that moment, Jim was shocked with himself. DId he really just say that? Was he gonna be in the same awkward situation as Mystery Woman? He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as Spock regarded him oddly. He couldn't tell if it was bad or not.

Spock was mildly shocked at the cadet's admission. Shocked but not bothered. Jim believed him to be "a catch," which meant that he found him desirable. The blonde's brow began to furrow in worry above his concerned blue eyes.

"Look, Spock… I'm sorry. That was out of pla-" Spock held up a hand to cut him off. Jim's mouth obediently snapped shut.

"It was not," Spock said simply.

"Really… you mean…" He had to be mistaken. Spock is interested in him?

Spock being his characteristically blunt Vulcan self simply dove straight in, "Would you be amenable to sharing the evening meal with me?" Jim just looked at him (He was beside himself). "It is custom to share a meal in an attempt at courtship, is it not?" Spock felt bold. Something he wasn't accustomed to. He didn't have to be as straightforward as he was being, but he also was very much interested in spending time with the blonde outside of the Academy setting.

"... I mean yes, I would love to catch dinner with you. Thanks for inviting me," Jim finally responded with his familiar bright smile lighting up his face and eyes. I have something to do at the engineering lab soon. Any plans?"

"Yes, I will make the proper arrangements. I will be waiting for you at the Fork at 1900 hours," Spock tried hard to not let his excitement show outwardly.

"Ok, see you then!" and Jim stood and backed out of the small office before turning around to jog out of the hall and to the engineering building.


	8. Ch 8: Seen

Jim strode into his shared dorm room later that day and adopted what many dubbed "the power stance," standing with his feet wide and his fists on his hips. Of course, he Kirk-ified it with that characteristic smirk of his. He was happy. Actually, beyond happy; more like over the moon and skip to Jupiter overjoyed. He knew he was acting a bit like a teenage girl about Spock right then, and he didn't feel the least bit ashamed. He also wasn't about to be ashamed of the amount of annoying he was about to be…

"Booones," he sing-songed, "Bonesy boy!" The familiar distinct grumbling that Jim had come to know and love from his best friend sounded from behind the partition that designated the sleeping area of their room,

"Awh, for fuck's sake, Jim! Can't a guy get some rest! You know I was up all night studying last night. Or did you forget that med students are humans too?"

"But they're not, otherwise they wouldn't sign themselves up for a career that doesn't give them a chance to get the sleep that humans need," Jim joked. A few seconds later, Bones's pillow smacked Jim in the face.

"Well, are you dying?" Bones inquired with his face pressing into the mattress where the pillow had been. "Why'd you wake me?"

"I got a date tonight!"

"... and?" the drowsy med student rolled over onto his back and lolled his head to face his friend, "That's not exactly anything new. Really." Jim flopped onto his own bed not far from the other.

"Yeah, but you're not gonna believe who asked me." McCoy didn't seem much more interested than he was before.

"And who was it?"

"The one and only COMMANDER SPOCK!" McCoy, now wide awake, sat up in his bed at lightning speed. He didn't say anything; he just kinda stared at the man before him, then shrugged after another moment.

"You know, I'm actually not that surprised, kid. You have your weird way with some people. I'm just surprised he was the one to ask."

"To be fair, I'm the one that hit on him first. Either way, I have a hot date with Commander Spock. Jealous?"

"About as jealous as I would be of the poor kid out there one day that will oversleep on the day of his morning final exam," he laid back down after reaching for his pillow on the floor and placing it back under his head, "Well, good luck tonight, kid. Try not to be so… _you_ and scare away that unsuspecting hobgoblin. Now I'm going to go back to trying to be human and sleep."Jim huffed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great. You know it. I'll catch ya later, Bones."

XXXX

1900 hours couldn't roll by any sooner for Spock; it was still only half past 1800 and he'd been dressed and ready to go for quite a while. Logically, Spock knew that time neither moved fast nor slow, but he couldn't deny that he looked forward to that hour specifically. He was about to follow through with something new: doing something he _wanted_ without giving too much thought to what will come next which was simply going out to dinner with an especially attractive human… and his student. Spock moved towards the window in his quarters and looked upon the pinkening early evening sky. It wasn't dark enough to see any stars, but he still knew the small patch of the horizon that designated the Eridanus constellation, where his home planet orbited its twin suns. He imagined the face of disapproval that was his father, how what he was about to do would only strengthen Sarek's claim that he was an irresponsible youth. His father had never agreed with Spock's decision to reject the Vulcan Science Academy, leave Vulcan, and attend Starfleet Academy in the first place. He believed Spock to be too young and inexperienced to live among humans since Spock struggled with emotions, by Vulcan standards, because of his human heritage. Acting on the desire to court an illogical and emotional human, even developing the desire in the first place, was a surefire way to garner more disapproval from his father. The fact that Jim was his student also wouldn't thrill either of his parents. That practice was unheard of on Vulcan.

Spock's body stiffened with unease as second thoughts about the night ahead began to filter into the front of his mind. Spock silently chastised himself for allowing himself to act so illogically. Spock reached for his padd on his night stand, sat down on the edge of his bed, and opened up his contacts and searched for Kirk. He had received Jim's messaging information early on in their tactics meetings during his office hours in the event that he needed to contact him in advance. The opportunity to use it had finally arisen. Without further ado, but with some reluctance, he opened his messaging app and typed a brief message:

CDR_SPOCK: Cadet Kirk, I am contacting you to cancel meeting for the evening meal at 1900 hours. I apologize for any inconvenience.

The app showed that Jim had opened the message only moments later. Spock sat with the padd in his lap for the better part of 15 minutes, keeping the messaging app open. He never received a reply. Powering down his padd screen, he moved to his meditation mat, hoping to quash the blooming guilt.

XXXX

Class moved as any other for Spock over the following weeks. His students were generally quiet, though a few questions popped their way in here and there throughout lecture. By this point in the semester, each student sat in the same section if not the exact same seat in the auditorium for each meeting. The only exception was a certain fair-haired. Since the canceled dinner, he had taken to seating himself farther and farther from his usual position in the very first row. Neither of them had spoken privately with the other and Jim had yet to schedule another appointment for practice for Pike's tactics class. Even so long vacated, no one had used the opportunity to fill the empty seat in the front. And at the end of each meeting, Jim was careful to avoid eye contact with Spock as he descended the stairs toward the exit.

Even after several weeks, Spock felt… sheepish, an experience he was not accustomed to. While he continued to go about his days and nights as he always had, the feeling that he needed to right his wrong with Jim always lingered in the back of his mind and his nightly meditations were getting noticeably more difficult as time passed.

XXXX

To say that Jim was crestfallen because of the canceled dinner after several weeks would have been a great exaggeration. Dejected a couple couple nights, yes, but after those few days passed and Spock had made no move to reschedule or even personally contact him, he stopped caring about the whole thing since Spock didn't have the decency to explain himself or at least apologize face-to-face. Jim figured he couldn't win them all, after all, but did at at least admit to himself that he found this instance of rejection a little more disappointing than any other in his long list of past dates. He thought a Vulcan might take dates like those a little more seriously, but maybe playing games with people is a universal trait of dating-age individuals, not just humans.

Sitting in the back of the auditorium as he had been lately allowed Jim to see all the faces of those classmates he never noticed sitting in the front as they all climbed up the steps to find a seat in the many rows leading up from the ground level. A very long-haired brunette three rows ahead of him caught his attention as she whipped her hair over her shoulder to avoid uncomfortably sitting on it as she took her seat. Her mane wasn't the only thing that set her apart from the small sea of red uniforms; it was her simple black-framed glasses. Eyeglasses became somewhat obsolete as laser eye surgery had become vastly more popular and affordable to most over the last several decades. No one had need for those frames on their faces. Jim wore his own when he spent long times looking at padd screens and computers when doing homework because his eyes weren't the best, and even though he could afford the surgery, his doctor warned him that his eyes showed signs of being prone to reverting to pre-surgery conditions eventually. Which meant multiple corrective procedures in the future, so Jim decided to just stick with his obsolete spectacles since his body loved to be screwy like that. But this girl, whoever she was, was _stunning_. He feels he would have noticed her for her beautiful face, regardless of her unique and defining glasses and hair. He only had the chance to see it for a moment, but her delicate features called to him. His normal type were what some dubbed as vixens, tall, curvy, and overflowing with self-confidence, but this mystery girl's more petite frame and demure demeanor enraptured him nonetheless. He had to talk to her.


	9. Ch 9: Blue-Eyed Girl

_Playing a new game,_

 _Laughing and a-running, hey, hey,_

 _Skipping and a-jumping_

 _In the misty morning fog with_

 _Our, our hearts a-thumping_

 _And you, my brown-eyed girl,_

 _You, my brown-eyed girl._

~ _"Brown-Eyed Girl" , Van Morrison_

Jim had his sights set once again on that girl a few rows ahead. Even with everybody crowding and shuffling around each other as class was dismissed, his eyes had no problem finding her. She just stood there by her seat as she waited for the crowd at her end of the desk row to dissipate. Jim would never say it out loud, but he found that adorable. She was so focused on the exit near her that she didn't notice the other end of the row clearing up. And that is when Jim took the opportunity to jog down the few stairs that separated them.

"'Scuse me, miss?"

The girl jumped and turned to face that startling voice. She had these beautiful, big, blue doe eyes hiding behind her glasses. Like deep pools of of water. They reminded him of a similar set of eyes with their depth even though they were different colors…. But he wouldn't allow himself to think of that certain Vulcan who owned them.

"OH!" the girl squeaked. She brushed errant strands aways from her face and cleared her throat quietly before revealing a small smile and an endearing English accent, "Hi there."

Jim's face slid into a familiar easy smile. "I didn't mean to startle you and don't want to hold you up too long, but I just wanted to tell you that I think you're beautiful and I've gotta know your name." He was in full Charmer Mode. The girl's mouth hung open a little, and her eyes widened before she smiled big and cast her gaze to the floor briefly. She looked back up, face soft, "Lennon. My name's Lennon. ."

"Wow, that name is actually gorgeous and suits you," Jim tried his best to make his abash look at least somewhat cool. "Now I'm not even sure if I should tell you my boring name," Jim laughed, Lennon giggled in kind, bouncing a little on her toes.

"Aw, you're too sweet. Well, what is it! Now I _have_ to know your name!"

"Ahh, well there are hundreds of thousands thousands of people with my same name, but the name's Jim."

"Jim. Not bad," Lennon peered at the chronometer on the far wall, "Alright, well it was so nice meeting you, Jim, but I have a class to get to, so catch you next class?" Jim had totally forgot about his whole not wanting to keep Lennon for too long thingy and blushed as his hand rose up and absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry for slowing you down. It was really nice meeting you too, Lennon." At that, Lennon smiled again as she started her departure. Halfway down the stairs, she turned back to Jim's direction.

"Six, six, one, nine.. Five, four, nine, two!"Jim just kind of stared. "My comm, Jim," she replied with feigned exasperation. "Catch ya later!" And at that she jogged the rest of the way down and out the doors.

"Six, six, one, nine.. Five, four, nine, two…" Jim whipped out his padd and added the number to his contacts before he could forget and went on his way to meet Bones for lunch.

Standing in the dark just behind the wall between his office and the classroom by the open door was Spock. He heard the the exchange. It perplexed him how much his heart seemed to sink as the brief and flirtatious conversation between Jim and Lennon played out before him… He thought this was all behind him. What would things be like if he hadn't allowed fear and shame to control him and cause him to cancel that dinner?

XXXX

||| The Next Night |||

J_KIRK: _Hey, Lennon it's Jim.. I just wanted to tell you again that I think that you're beautiful and I'd love to get to know you better :)_

C_MARCUS: _I think you're pretty alright, too ^-^ and I'd be lying if I said I'm not a bit curious about you too :p_

J_KIRK: _If you like pizza at all, I know a bomb joint in the Castro district that I'd like to show_

C_Marcus: _i'm down to clown. If you're free Friday, I'd love to eat some great pizza with you :)_

Jim was beside himself. She actually seems interested. He remembered a time when he tried to make passes at Uhura before he went to the Academy… BIG fail. Bloody broken nose, laying on a bar table pitifully kind of fail. Not that he thought Lennon was easy at all, but he appreciated it when girls didn't act totally disinterested when talking to a guy who's trying to ask them for some of their time.

J_KIRK: _Yep, we're gonna eat well on Friday. After field training, we'll both need it!_

C_MARCUS: _No joke LOL. Well, I'm going to watch a movie with my roommate now.. I'll see you in class Wednesday?_

J_KIRK: _Yeah, I'll be there. Oh and one more question before you go?_

C_MARCUS: _hm?_

J_KIRK: _What's that "C" in your name stand for?_

C_MARCUS: _Well I'll tell you now that Lennon is my middle name. My first name is pretty boring so I'm not a big fan of it._

J_KIRK: _Is it worse than mine? LOL_

C_MARCUS: heyyy you said one more question and you asked it! haha I'll let you know… in time lol

J_KIRK: _Ok fair enough. Enjoy your movie!_

C_MARCUS: Thanks! Goodnight, Jim :)

J_KIRK: Goodnight :)

XXXX

Spock had been paying more and more attention to Jim whenever he could spot him, which was mostly when he was in his class, ever since he heard that brief conversation between Jim and Lennon. Over the several weeks, which turned into months since then, he had noted the increasing familiarity between the two. It was safe to assume the two were involved romantically. Someone _could_ infer that Spock is jealous of this, but Spock is Vulcan. He doesn't get jealous. Jim was never even his. And it was illogical to stay so fixated on someone who had been a fleeting person in his life.

Over this time, his parents (father in particular) had been calling with increasing frequency about their desire for Spock to bond. Sarek and Amanda had been gracious and allowed him the freedom to choose another _telsu_ rather than the female he had been promised to in childhood, T'Pring. It worked in her favor because last he heard, she had bonded to an individual called Stonn, shortly after their link was severed. However, Spock is still unbonded and not promised to anyone. It wasn't common to not have a _telsu_ or remain completely unbonded at Spock's age. Amanda was human, so she didn't pressure as much, but Sarek had compared Spock to a terran spinster. While Spock knew his father did not make that comparison to call him feminine, he did understand the general point his father was attempting to get across to him. Spock needed to bond sooner rather than later.

"Greetings, Mother," Spock nodded to the comm screen displaying the live feed of his parents, " _Sa-mekh_."

"Hello, my Spock," Amanda repeated the same greeting she always began every call with. Sarek followed soonafter,

"Greetings, _sa-fu t'nash-veh_ ." Sarek paused. "I must admit, I am somewhat taken by surprise that you were the first to call."

"Yes, it's great, isn't it?" Amanda chirped with a big smile aimed at Sarek then to Spock. She sobered, "I do hope that everything's going okay…?" Her eyes now looked at him strangely, imploring. Spock tensed a bit.

"I assure the both of you that this call is not urgent. I simply wish to speak."

"Spock…" the mother cautioned. His tone was particularly terse, even for a Vulcan. She knew when her boy was troubled. Even when looking at the comm feed originating from light years away.

"Again, the matter is neither urgent nor major," replied Spock.

"Then what is you reason for calling?" his ever blunt father inquired curtly.

"I am calling in regards to your repeated requests that I find a mate for myself."At that, Amanda's face lit up again and she practically bounced in her seat. Living on vulcan and being married to one, she did not do so often, but she was particularly excited at the moment.

"You met someone. What is her name?"

"There is no name to mention. I called with the intent to inform you that I choose not to take a mate. I function acceptably unbonded and do not require the intervention of my parents any longer." Now this is one of the few times Sarek allowed himself to express shock outwardly.

"Spock, you will not speak to your mother or myself in the fashion in which you just have, child or adult," Sarek asserted, "Additionally, the decision to forgo a mate entirely is highly illogical. State your reasoning behind this preposterous request." Discomfort settled in Spock and he repressed the urge to shift in his seat. However logical Vulcans try to be and how unemotional they seem, the bond is the sole opposite. Being fully mentally and emotionally connected to another, even if good shielding were in place, still allows a considerable deal of vulnerability on both parts. Spock found that idea never sat well with him. He considers himself far from a model Vulcan… to show another being his intensely personal internal struggles or to attempt to hide it for the rest of his life lest that bondmate find it distasteful… Spock couldn't and therefore he wouldn't.

"Yes, Spock, why this now? It seemed before that you also were really looking, not just us."

"Mother, Father, you are aware of my dual heritage. As a hybrid, I am sterile, so the formation of a mating bond is not logical nor fulfilling to a bondmate that would eventually wish to have children," Spock replied evenly, hoping to not only fully convince his parents of his reason, but also himself. He didn't believe that most members of any species truly wished to be alone their whole life. If he weren't so unstable emotionally, in his Vulcan opinion, perhaps he wouldn't have to make this decision. Sarek considered his son's response and Amanda pursed her lips.

"Marriage is not all about children, my dear… And if you both want children, there a lot of ways to expand your family. Your father and I were not initially compatible for children, but here you are, and we have amazing geneticists to thank. For example, adoption is also an option, Spock," Amanda reasoned. Amanda's heart ached for her poor son. He had always been so closed off and alone, she hoped that a bond with someone he picked for himself would show him the more vibrant side of life outside of all his responsibilities and duties.

"I am not certain that I would wish to follow those avenues in the future."

" _A'duna_ ," Sarek called to Amanda. Whatever she was going to respond to Spock with never came out. Sarek directed his attention once again to his son, " _Sa-fu_ , I recognize, and believe that you do also, that you have not 'looked at this from all angles', as your mother would say," he started, "Therefore, when you have made a _fully informed_ decision about an aspect of your life that is as major as bonding or choosing not to, you may call again to inform us."

Spock opened his mouth immediately to retort and assure his parents that this is what he truly wished, but his father quickly raised his hand to halt him and continued, his voice a tad stronger now, "In the meantime, I simply encourage you to allow yourself to experience what lies beyond your office at the Academy."

Spock drew his head back a few millimeters in muted surprise. He… didn't know how to respond to his father's uncharacteristic advice at all. He just settled with looking at his father oddly for a few beats. Amanda took the chance to fill the slightly awkward silence with tidbits of all that had gone on since their last call until they both amicably ended the video call, leaving Spock in deep thought.


End file.
